Lifeline

by Susan X Meagher

  "She told me that I couldn’t come back until a doctor cleared me to play again. I think she was afraid that I was losing my mind," Ryan said, her voice nearly inaudible.

  Pulling back, Jamie cradled Ryan’s face in her hands and lifted it until their eyes met. "You were never in danger of that, sweetheart. With all of the stress you’ve been under, a little incident like that is perfectly understandable."

  "It scared me, and it humiliated me," Ryan said quietly. "The other players all saw it, and now the whole fucking world knows about it."

  "Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry that came out. That’s just horrible for you."

  "You’re not mad at me for not telling you when it happened?" Ryan asked, her eyes a little watery.

  "Of course not. That was a horrible time. You had so much going on in your sweet little head, I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about it."

  "Thanks, Jamie," she said softly. "I really try to be completely honest with you, but sometimes … I just can’t make myself talk about certain things."

  "I understand. I really do. Please, don’t worry about this. We’re fine, love. We’re just fine." She stroked her head for a few more moments, then asked the question that she was a little wary of bringing up. "How are you dealing with your feelings about the people who are behind these stories, Ryan?"

  The larger woman took in a shaky breath. "Not well. Amanda’s doing her best to help me get past my rage, but it’s honestly not going very well. Mia made a joke out of walking me to school today, but I was really glad she did. I need to have a cool head nearby in case I see any of those traitors. I don’t trust my reaction."

  "Ryan," Jamie said looking into her eyes. "I want you to promise me that you won’t assault any of them if you see them. I don’t mind paying off a lawsuit, but you couldn’t stand the stress right now, honey. Please, please try to control yourself – for your own good."

  "I’ll try," she murmured. "I promise I’ll try."

  On Tuesday afternoon, Jamie waited by the starter’s window at Tilden Golf Course, the main public course for the City of Berkeley. It was a nice enough course, well laid out and quite picturesque. But like nearly all public courses, it was crowded at almost every hour of the day, and play was often grindingly slow.

  She and Juliet had been able to convince 6 other women to join them, and the starter looked at his waiting list, while shaking his head. "If your group’s not here on time, I can’t guarantee how long you’ll have to wait, honey."

  She gave him a tight smile, not really liking to be called honey by a stranger. However, he was an elderly stranger, and she generally tried to make allowances for the elderly, figuring that the world had been a very different place when they were growing up. "They should be here soon," she said. "You know how it is with students."

  "Oh, right, you’re the girls from the golf team at Cal. Well, I’ll figure out a way to get you on, even if they’re late. Maybe I can sneak you onto the tenth hole."

  "We’d appreciate that," she said sincerely. "It’s very tough to find the time to play a round with the days so short."

  She heard the clacking of golf cleats coming down the path at a very brisk pace. Turning, she dramatically pointed to her watch and said, "We’re up, guys. Move it!"

  Her teammates were really hustling, and each woman signed in quickly. "We had to get the shuttle to drive us," Juliet panted. "I’m the only one with a car."

  "We had a better set-up at my high school," Jamie grumbled. Her grumpy mood only lasted a moment, though, when she saw two pairs of eyes looking up at her. She mentally cringed when she reminded herself that the whole point of this exercise was to reach out and try to make this group into a team. "Sorry," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "PMS."

  The group trudged over to the first tee, each of them choosing to carry their bags. They were allowed to have caddies for their tournaments, but Jamie found that carrying her own bag helped make a round of golf at least approach exercise.

  The eight-some was made up of her, Juliet, the two freshman – Lauren Takuta and Samantha Naylor, and four juniors – Annalina Nilsson, Jaclyn Stamp, Crystal Bolwig, Valerie Monroe and Christie Harwood. Jamie had spent almost no time with any of the women, and since the point was to get to know them, she assumed that Juliet would play with one foursome, and she would play with the other. But Juliet obviously didn’t share that idea. She pointed at each of the juniors and said, "Why don’t you guys go ahead? You look ready."

  They nodded agreeably and teed off, taking off down the fairway after each of them had hit. Juliet waited a respectable amount of time, tugged her visor down so that only her nose was visible, and gave her ball a long ride, grunting slightly with the effort. "Nice," Jamie said. But Juliet couldn’t see her smile, and it was clear that she was already in her zone. She merely nodded and went to stand by her bag, arms crossed over her chest, her tee clutched between her teeth.

  Lauren and Samantha were nearly as reluctant to speak as Juliet was, but their issue seemed to be nervousness more than their need to concentrate. Even though Jamie was only 3 years older than the young women, she felt old enough to be their mother, since both of them seemed very young for their age, and painfully shy.

  Jamie tried her best, but she was unable to spark the slightest bit of spontaneous conversation within the group. They all gave a polite review of each shot, usually along the lines of "nice one," "good shot," or "tough break," but beyond that, conversation was nil.

  That changed dramatically when Jamie missed badly with her tee shot on the 8th hole. The ball landed in a small stand of pine trees, most of them relatively short – about 12 to 15 feet tall, with one substantially larger one – which Jamie had a bad feeling she was right behind. She started to trudge over to see how much trouble she was in, but before she got there Juliet was trotting up alongside of her. "You blocked that one badly," she said.

  "I thought so," Jamie agreed. "I don’t do that a lot, but I didn’t end up in my normal finishing position, so I figured I’d blocked it."

  "Let’s see what you’ve got," Juliet said, her voice showing definite signs of excitement.

  They approached the ball, and Jamie tried to see the green from her position. "I might have to just knock it back onto the fairway," she said.

  "Not so fast. You’ve got some options here."

  "I do? Like what?"

  "Well, if you can get it up in a hurry, you can go over that tree right there."

  "That tree’s huge, and it’s not 20 feet away! I’d have to hit a pitching wedge, and then I couldn’t carry the green anyway."

  "No, no, use a 7 wood. Choke up on it and open the face a little. You can do it."

  "I don’t carry a 7 wood," Jamie said with a frown.

  "Here. Use mine. Lauren and Samantha won’t mind bending the rules a little, since we’re just practicing."

  "I don’t know, Juliet, breaking the 14 club limit’s a pretty big crime." She was smiling warmly, knowing that the stringent rules of golf were not followed strictly during a practice round.

  Juliet extended the club, then watched as Jamie took a practice swing. "No, that’s not the right swing. Mind if I show you?"

  Jamie tried to give the club back, but Juliet said, "No, let me show you." She stood behind the slightly smaller woman and put her arms around her. Jamie stiffened, feeling just a twinge of unease. Relax, she chided herself. You’ve done this dozens of times with lots of other players. Her mind wandered to the first time she’d taken Ryan to play golf. Thinking of how her whole body had tingled when she’d wrapped her arms around her, she felt her discomfort start to flare again. Juliet was holding her as much as she was holding the club, and her breasts were pressed into Jamie’s back more firmly than she felt they had to be. Juliet’s arms were substantially longer than Jamie’s, and she could see that the taller woman wasn’t straining to reach the club – so she could have backed up an inch or two. Juliet’s lips were nearly touching her ear, and she nestled up even closer and asked
quietly, "How’s that?"

  "Good," Jamie said, nodding quickly. She moved away and took a few practice swings, just to calm her racing heart. Striding to her ball, she slowed her heart and took a smooth swing, managing to fly it over the tree and just reach the fringe of the green. Dashing out to the fairway, she watched the shot land, her discomfort forgotten. Each woman making a fist, she and Juliet tapped their clenched hands together. "Thanks! That’s a very handy shot!"

  "Now, don’t try to use it if the ground is too hard. This works best if you’re on something springy, like pine needles, or fluffy grass."

  "Got it," Jamie said. "You’d better go hit. Lauren and Samantha are waiting for you."

  Juliet rolled her eyes and muttered, "Freshmen!" then took off to jog over to her ball.

  That night, Ryan was working at her computer when Jamie came out of the bath, ready for bed. "Hey, honey?"

  "Hmm?"

  "How can you tell if a woman’s being inappropriate with you?"

  Ryan’s chair turned slowly, then she took off the round, wire-rimmed glasses she wore when she worked at her computer for a long time. Her dark head cocked and she asked, "Repeat that, please."

  "You heard me," Jamie said. "It’s no big deal, but I felt like Juliet went out of her way to rub up against me today. It reminded me of junior high, when boys would invent excuses to rub up against the girls. Weird."

  Ryan had a pen in her hand, and she tapped her chin with it studiously. "Go on, I sense there’s more."

  "No, not really." She looked down for a moment, then shrugged, "Oh, all right. It reminded me of the time I took you to play golf for the first time. I got a real tingle when I was showing you how to swing. I didn’t want to ever let go, and I was hoping Juliet wasn’t feeling the same way."

  "What’s her orientation?" Ryan asked. "Is she a lesbian?"

  "I have no earthly idea," Jamie said. "All I know is that she gets mildly excited by trouble shots. I don’t think that’s a sexual orientation, though."

  Ryan was scowling as she swiveled a little in her chair. "She knows you’re gay, right?"

  "Blind and deaf cloistered nuns know I’m gay," Jamie said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "You’d have to have been living under a rock not to have seen any of the tabloids. A barista at Starbucks winked at me yesterday, and I don’t think it was because she liked the way I placed my order."

  "I’m gonna have to start following you," Ryan said. "I don’t like to have other women hitting on my girl."

  "Oh, please," Jamie said. "If I got upset every time someone flirted with you, I’d wear myself out. I get 1 wink for every 20 you get, hot stuff."

  "I don’t get that many winks," Ryan said. "A lot of women just have eye problems. The weather is very dry here, you know."

  Jamie gave her an aggrieved look, then said, "Back to my question. What do I do about Juliet? Just assume she’s a physical person?"

  Ryan gave her a narrowed glance and said, "I’m coming to your practice tomorrow. I want to meet this Juliet character."

  "You most certainly will not!"

  "Huh? Why not? I’ve never been to a practice, and now that I don’t have to study for my math test, I have time to do it."

  "No way, Ryan. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch practice, but you haven’t done so. I will not let you show up the first time I suspect that someone’s tried to cop a feel."

  "Cop a feel! I thought she just brushed up against you!"

  "She was showing me how to hit a particular shot, honey. She had her arms around me, and she was pressed up against me more than she needed to be. That’s all. She didn’t grab my ass or anything. I was exaggerating – really."

  Ryan stood and came over in front of her partner, then turned around. "Show me," she said.

  "Oh, Ryan, it was no big deal …"

  "Show me." She enunciated very clearly, making Jamie realize that she wasn’t kidding in the least.

  With a sigh, Jamie wrapped her arms around Ryan, bending over her in as close a recreation of the event as she could manage. Then, just because she was feeling feisty, she pressed her pelvis against her partner’s ass, grabbed her hips and pulled her back against herself, sliding her hand down between her legs to give her a good squeeze.

  "Jesus!" Ryan whirled around and stared at her partner, her mouth gaping open.

  Just as she did so, Jamie added, "Exactly! And when I whirled around, she did this!" She reached out and gave each of Ryan’s breasts a tweak, then ran from the room yelling, "Kidding!"

  When Ryan scampered down the stairs and caught partner in the kitchen, she gave her a scowl that quickly turned into an aggrieved smile. "Look, Jamie, this is too weird. Why can’t I come check this woman out?"

  "Because I don’t need supervision."

  "Me? You think I’m trying to supervise you? I don’t do that!"

  "You’d be stuck to me like glue, and you know it." Jamie wrapped her arms around Ryan’s waist, giving her such a warm smile that the larger woman couldn’t maintain her grumpy mood.

  "Well …" Ryan said, smiling slyly, "you’re a very precious commodity, and I do like to safeguard my investments."

  "This investment is self-regulating. I’ll call you when I need to bring in the muscle."

  "I know you can take care of yourself, babe, I just don’t trust other women. I know how alluring you are, Jamie. You can’t blame the poor fools."

  "Thank you, Ryan," she said. "You’ve stroked my ego enough for one night. Coming to bed?"

  "In a few. I’m just trying to figure out one little thing."

  "Uh-huh," she said, having heard that excuse before. "Kiss me when you come to bed, okay?"

  "You’ve got it, babe. Love you."

  "I love you, too, Ryan. Don’t stay up too late, okay?"

  "Do my best," she said, promising nothing.

  On Thursday morning, Jim called Jamie, catching her just as she was returning from golf practice. "Honey, I have a proposal," he said gravely. "I’d appreciate if you hear me out before you respond. All right?"

  "Uhm … sure, Daddy. What is it?"

  "I know you and Ryan don’t want to speak publicly, but the statement the public relations firm put out didn’t help a bit. The situation has gotten out of hand, Jamie. Every day there’s something new, and I’m afraid this will continue until they’ve dug up every piece of dirt they can."

  "You know," she said, "we’ve stopped watching TV or listening to local radio, so I honestly don’t know what’s going on. We decided as a family to have a news blockade. No one is watching – so we’re really not very affected by it."

  "Hmm … I uhm … don’t know if you want to know this, but I’m sure Ryan will find out," he said, with just a touch of hesitation in his voice.

  "Go ahead," she said wearily. "What now?"

  "It seems that Jennie’s mother has sold out, honey. There’s a big story in the National Inquisitor detailing her concerns about the influence Ryan has on her daughter, and how she didn’t know about Ryan’s tainted background." He pulled the phone from his ear as his child let loose a string of profanities that actually made him blush. "Have you served a stint in the Navy that I didn’t know about?" he finally asked, his head still reeling.

  "I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m just on my last nerve here. We’ve got to do something!"

  "That’s why I called, honey. I have an idea …"

  Ryan sat in the kitchen, her face composed and alert. She let Jamie talk, not interrupting until she was sure she was finished, then slowly nodded her head. "It’s okay with me," she said decisively.

  "Really?" She had been almost certain that Ryan would not approve of her father’s plan, and her surprise at her partner’s ready acceptance of the idea was obvious.

  "Yes. I’m out of ideas, and now that the tabloids are involved, people will continue to come out of the woodwork to grab their filthy lucre."

  "Okay," Jamie said, still amazed. "I’ll call Daddy."

  Later that afternoon, just b
efore Ryan had to leave for her last class, they went into Mia’s room and turned on C-SPAN to watch Jim in action. As he took his place before the microphone, Jamie turned to her partner and said, "He looks cute, doesn’t he?"

  Ryan gave her a warm smile and said, "That’s just what I was thinking."

  "Were not," Jamie said.

  "Maybe not," Ryan said, "but he looks a lot like you, so he’s plenty cute in my book."

  "Shhh! He’s talking!"

  He looked up from his notes and at the rostrum, directing his remarks to the front of the room – even though the chamber was empty. He was making his statement during a time in the senate schedule known as "members’ remarks". Senators who wanted to have their comments entered into the record could either submit them in writing, or stand up and make a speech. Not coincidentally, since the advent of C-SPAN broadcasting the affairs of the senate, most members chose to have their comments broadcast. The camera always focused just on the senator, keeping the shot tight so it wasn’t obvious that they were either alone, or had just a few aides running around bringing them notes.

  Jim began, "Recently, members of my family have been involved in an event that has captured the attention of the nation. The incident was very upsetting for my family and the other families involved, and everyone connected to what happened has chosen not to speak to the press about the matter. Their decision has not wavered, nor will it. No one involved will speak to the press now, or later, and that has been made clear through every possible avenue. I will not go against that decision today, or any time in the future, but I do have something to say about the entire experience.

  "Without going into detail, let me just say that my family members were thrust into the spotlight through no choice of their own. They were involved in an incident in which they were blameless – not seeking the spotlight or renown in any way, even though they could have exploited the situation for a great deal of money and fame if they had chosen to do so.

  "Neither their innocence nor their fierce desire for privacy has stopped the media from hounding these people to distraction. Now, as a Democrat and a fervent proponent of the First Amendment, I am, and will remain, a staunch supporter of a free press. I could propose laws and regulations that would give people in this situation some zone of safety. But I don’t intend to do that. What I am asking for … no … what I am begging for … is for the press to behave in a responsible manner.