Just Physical

by Jae

  Crash tugged on her tank top, which still clung to her chest. “How about Saturday? The way I look and smell right now, not even a hot-dog stand will sell me anything. Do you want me to pick you up at, let’s say, eight?”

  “Saturday at eight sounds good, but parking can be really bad around the restaurant I have in mind. Why don’t we meet at my place and then walk over?”

  “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “There’s a great Persian place in Glendale, not too far from where I live. Do you like Persian food?”

  Crash thought for a moment. “I don’t think I ever had it.”

  A grin spread over Jill’s face. “Oh, so you’re going to lose your Persian food virginity to me.”

  “Let me guess. That’s in the dictionary too?”

  “But of course.”

  They walked to their cars together, and Jill gave Crash her address. After a quick wave, she climbed into her car, turned the key in the ignition, and put the air-conditioning on high. She sat there, letting the cool air blast her face, and shook her head at herself. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I can’t talk right now, Mom,” Crash said. She tried to balance her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder while she perched on the sofa bed and tied her laces. “I’m on my way out the door.”

  “Are you going out with someone?” her mother asked predictably.

  God, why couldn’t her mom be like the mothers of so many other lesbians—ignoring her daughter’s love life, in deep denial about her sexual orientation? “No, Mom. Just going out for a bite to eat with a friend.” She bit back the unfortunately on the tip of her tongue.

  “What are you wearing?” her mother asked.

  “I told you it’s not a date, so it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing,” Crash said. Under no circumstances would she admit that she had dug out her best pair of slacks and the sleeveless white blouse that usually made women’s gazes linger on her arms.

  A moment of silence filtered through the line; then her mother cleared her throat. “You aren’t having dinner with Jill Corrigan, are you?”

  What was that tone supposed to mean? “I thought you were a fan of Jill’s?”

  “I am.”

  “Then why do you sound so disapproving now?”

  “I don’t disapprove of your friendship if it’s really just that, but…” Her mother sighed. “I’m a fan of her acting, but I didn’t know much about her personal life. After you told me you’re…friends with her, I looked her up on Wikipedia.”

  Both were silent for several moments.

  Laces tied, Crash dropped her foot back to the floor and stared down at it. “You know about the MS.” She made it a statement, not a question.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I nudged you to date her. Now I understand why you won’t.”

  Crash’s stomach churned. She flopped down onto the sofa bed and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “It’s not like you think. It’s…complicated.”

  “You don’t need to feel guilty,” her mother said. “You’d be a fool not to consider the long-term consequences of getting involved with her. Do you remember Brett, that quarterback your father coached when you were little?”

  Images of the big, burly teenager carrying her around on his shoulders flashed through Crash’s mind. She couldn’t have been more than six at the time, but she still remembered him. “Yeah. What about him?”

  “He’d been offered a full-ride scholarship by several major colleges, but right before he finished high school, he was diagnosed with MS. He had to kiss his scholarship good-bye. By the time he graduated from college, he was in a wheelchair. Now he can’t even tie his own shoes.”

  Tie his own shoes… An image of her kneeling to tie Jill’s shoelaces shot through Crash’s mind. Would that be Jill’s future as well? And if it was, would someone be there to tie her laces for her? She wanted to push the thought away, as she had done for weeks, but this time, she didn’t allow herself to do that but instead asked herself the question that had been on her mind all along: Could she be the one to be there for Jill? If push came to shove, did she really have what it took to be a long-term caregiver?

  “Kristine? Are you still there?” her mother asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “Uh, yeah. Mom, that was twenty years ago. There was no medication whatsoever to help delay the progression of MS back then. Now there are twelve, and there’s a lot of research being done. In five or maybe ten or fifteen years, there could be a cure.”

  “Let’s hope so,” her mother said. “But until then, I don’t want you to live your life waiting for a ‘could be.’ It might be selfish, but I’m your mother, and I don’t want that for you.”

  Crash ducked into the bathroom to comb her hair and spray a bit of perfume on her neck and wrists. “I don’t want that either, but…”

  “Then why did you just put on perfume, which you rarely ever do?”

  Wha…? Crash glanced at the bathroom mirror as if expecting to see a hidden camera. “How did you…?”

  Her mother chuckled, but it sounded a bit sad. “I know you.”

  Yeah. She did. And that was why she would find out sooner or later anyway. Crash took a deep breath. “We said it would be just a dinner between friends, but if Jill were open to it, I’d want it to be a date.”

  Her mother gasped. “No. Kristine. That’s not a good idea. I’m sure Jill is a lovely woman, but getting involved with someone who has MS and could end up in a wheelchair… How would that fit into your life?”

  “She would fit into my life. Besides, I said date, not get married, Mom.”

  “Like I said, I know you. And I know you’re loyal to a fault. Once you’re in, you’re in. You wouldn’t break up with her even if you have to spoon-feed her and change her diapers.”

  Crash squeezed her eyes shut against the mental image of Jill bedridden or wheelchair-bound.

  “You’d have to give up everything that has been important in your life so far—traveling, going out, sports,” her mother said into the silence. “You’ve always been so active, even as a child. If you get involved with her and her illness progresses, you’ll be tied to the house along with her.”

  “I know,” Crash croaked out. “Don’t you think I did a lot of research and soul-searching about that?”

  “Soul-searching… That sounds like you’re considering more than just a date.”

  Crash sank against the doorjamb. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m not sure of much these days. Maybe I’ll end up regretting it, but I think I’m going to regret it more if I pushed Jill away just because I’m afraid.” A sigh escaped her. “She’s doing enough of that for the both of us.”

  “So she doesn’t want to date you?”

  “At least that’s what she says.” Crash glanced at her wristwatch. Shit. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late. Not a good way to start their dinner that might or might not be a date. She hurried out of the bathroom and grabbed her car keys and the dark gray blazer with the Chinese collar on the way to the door. “Mom, I really have to go now. Say hi to Dad and the boys for me, if you talk to them. And don’t worry so much about me, okay?”

  Her mother snorted. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry.”

  Crash didn’t know what to say to that. “I’ll call you next week. Good night.” After pressing the end-call button, she stood there for a second, letting the entire conversation play back in her mind. She shook herself out of her morose mood.

  For now, she would focus on having a nice evening—and maybe a night full of passion—with Jill. She would worry about the rest tomorrow.

  It was one minute past eight, and Crash still hadn’t arrived. Not that Jill was watching the clock or anything. She peered through the blinds, even knowing that the ivy-covered brick wall surrounding her house would block her view.

  “Your date isn�
��t going to stand you up, is she?”

  The sudden voice behind her made Jill clutch her chest and whirl around. She’d forgotten that Susana was still there, cleaning the house in preparation of the Fourth of July, even though Jill had told her it wasn’t necessary since she wouldn’t have anyone over. She had a feeling that her curious housekeeper had stayed longer so she would still be there when Crash arrived, not because of dusty cabinets.

  “Would you stop it? I told you Crash is just a friend.”

  “Crash.” Susana smacked her lips as if tasting the word. She wrinkled her nose. “What kind of name is that?”

  Jill shrugged. In the beginning, she had found it strange too, but now she no longer thought about it. “She’s a stuntwoman.”

  “Ooh! She’s an adventurous one, sí?” Susana grinned at her.

  Jill just shook her head. It still amazed her a little how casual her housekeeper was about her sexual orientation, even though she’d come to the US as a child and grown up in a Catholic family. If only her own parents could be more like that.

  “Crash’s adventurous nature is none of my business—or yours,” Jill said, playfully wagging her finger at Susana. “We aren’t dating.”

  “Oh, so that must be why you’re wearing such nice clothes…and why you put on perfume.”

  Jill peered down at the jade-colored blouse and the brand-new jeans that hugged her figure nicely. “There’s nothing wrong with smelling good and looking nice while having dinner with a friend, is there?”

  “No. Nothing wrong with that,” Susana said. “Nothing wrong with going out on a date either.”

  “Do we really need to have this discussion again? It’s bad enough that Crash is constantly trying to get me to reconsider.”

  “Oh, she does?” Susana smiled broadly. “I like her already.”

  Me too. And that was the problem.

  The gate buzzer sounded.

  Tramp jumped up from his bed and started barking.

  “Tramp, hush!” Jill hurried past Susana to the intercom next to the door. “Yes?”

  “Hi, it’s me—Crash.”

  Jill’s heart beat faster as she buzzed her in.

  A minute later, a knock sounded on the door.

  Tramp was still barking and blocking the door in his excitement to greet the visitor first. He danced around in the hall, sniffing and then wagging his tail as if he knew exactly who was on the other side of the door.

  Jill pushed him back with one hand, straightened the collar of her blouse with the other, and swung the door open.

  Suddenly, she was glad for Tramp’s eager greeting, because it gave her a moment to collect herself and to force some fluid back into her parched mouth so she could speak. “Uh, hi,” was the culmination of her efforts as her gaze roved over Crash’s bare arms and the sporty blazer she had casually tossed over one shoulder.

  “Hi.” Crash bent to greet Tramp and then straightened.

  Was there a handbook for this kind of situation? If there was, Jill wanted a copy. How did you greet a friend with benefits? As much as she wanted to kiss Crash, it seemed too intimate without the context of sex, especially with Susana watching. A handshake was too clinical. Their simple “hi” was a bit lame.

  Crash solved her problem by stepping closer and giving her a short hug.

  The scent of her perfume—clean and fresh with a spicy edge—made Jill weak in the knees. She melted against Crash’s body until their heat mingled.

  Very aware of Susana lingering somewhere behind her, she forced herself to back away after a few seconds.

  “You look great.” Crash let her gaze rove over Jill’s blouse and jeans.

  “So do you.” Good thing they were going to a restaurant, not to a lesbian bar, because Jill had no intention of spending the evening chasing off all the women salivating over Crash. Not that she had a right to chase them off, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away from Crash’s arms, left bare by her sleeveless white blouse.

  “Nice house,” Crash said, peering past Jill into the living room. “Yours?”

  “Yes. Well, mine and the bank’s. My grandparents left me some money, and I’m still paying off the rest. Shall we?”

  “Aren’t you going to ask her in for a tour?” Susana asked from behind her.

  Grudgingly, Jill stepped back to let Crash enter. She hadn’t wanted her to get too familiar with her home—or with Susana. It felt too much like introducing a date to her family. “Crash, this is Susana Rosales, my housekeeper and friend…and Tramp’s grandmother,” she added, earning her a swat to the shoulder. “Susana, this is Crash…Kristine Patterson, my…friend.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Crash flashed one of her charming smiles as she shook Susana’s hand.

  Susana returned the smile and the handshake.

  “Come on. I’ll give you the nickel tour.” Jill tugged on her arm, drawing Crash with her before Susana could interrogate her.

  Tramp followed them as they went from the kitchen to the office and from there to the living room.

  Crash looked around with obvious interest, and Jill wondered what she made of the butter-soft leather couch, the long bookcase, and the exercise bike set up along one wall so Jill could watch TV while she exercised.

  Crash wandered to the single French door that led to the backyard and peered out. “What’s that?”

  Reluctantly, Jill joined her and saw that Crash was pointing at the tire jump, the short tunnel, and the modest A-frame in her backyard. “Oh, those are just a few obstacles that I set up for Tramp. We’re taking agility classes once a week. Nothing too ambitious, but it’s fun and it helps me stay fit.” When someone had voiced doubts that she’d be able to run alongside Tramp to guide him, it had only made her more determined to try. And when her left leg was acting up, Susana’s son ran him through the course for her.

  “Wow,” Crash said. “That’s impressive.”

  Jill grinned. “What? I think she thought we’re just beautiful blonde airheads, Tramp.” She caressed the dog’s golden fur.

  “You’re not a blonde,” Crash said, grinning back.

  “No, but I played one on TV.”

  Crash laughed.

  The sound of her laughter poured over Jill like sunshine and made her smile reflexively. If only things could always be like this.

  They continued the tour.

  “And what’s up there?” Crash asked, pointing to the stairs.

  “Just the master bedroom, my bathroom, and a guest room,” Jill said but didn’t take her upstairs. Fatigue had weighed her down all day, and she didn’t want to exhaust herself before the evening started by climbing the stairs. She’d rather conserve her energy for later tonight. The thought made heat pool low in her belly. “We should go. I booked a table for eight.”

  “Have a nice evening,” Susana said with a broad grin and held on to Tramp so they could leave the house without him following.

  They walked the five blocks to the restaurant side by side, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

  God, Crash looked good. Jill’s gaze trailed down her bare arm to her hand. She wanted so much to reach over and entwine their fingers, but she had been the one who insisted it wasn’t a date, so she couldn’t very well…

  Before she finished the thought, Crash’s hand slid into hers.

  Startled, Jill looked over at her.

  “Is this okay?” Crash asked. “I know you said you didn’t… It just feels so natural.”

  Yes, it did. Jill curled her fingers around Crash’s. “It’s okay.” No harm in allowing herself to dream a little, right?

  They continued their way without saying anything else about it.

  “Sorry I was a bit late,” Crash said before the silence could grow awkward. “My mother called just as I was about to leave,
and she wanted to know all the details about where I was going. You know how mothers can be.”

  “Not really. When my mother calls me, it’s either to brag about my brother’s latest success in his job as an insurance agent or to give me health advice.”

  “Is she a doctor?”

  Jill snorted. “No. She’s a housewife. She just makes it her mission to read up on any new health fad that could help MS patients.”

  “That’s good, right? I mean, she’s trying to be there for you.”

  “That’s not the best way to do that. Most of these so-called miracle cures are just wasting my valuable time.”

  “Have you told her that?” Crash asked softly.

  Jill nodded. “More than once. But every time I do, she claims that I’m just stubborn and in denial.”

  “Which you, of course, aren’t.” The corners of Crash’s mouth twitched as if she was trying not to grin.

  “No. Yeah, okay, maybe I can be a little stubborn at times, but I’m not in denial.” At least she didn’t think so. She was injecting herself and taking vitamin D pills every day; there was always a fold-up cane and a foot brace in the trunk of her car, just in case, and she avoided getting involved with anyone. She was facing her MS with her eyes wide open, wasn’t she?

  The warmth of Crash’s hand holding hers told her that she might not be as successful avoiding emotional involvement as she wanted to think.

  But Crash’s fingers entwined with her own felt too good to let go. “So, what did you tell your mother?” she asked to distract herself.

  “That it’s complicated,” Crash said and left it at that.

  “I assume she knows you’re gay?”

  Crash smiled. “I think she knew when I kept asking for more private lessons because I had a crush on Delia, my math tutor. Normally, she couldn’t keep me inside long enough to even open the math book.”

  “How old were you?” Jill asked.

  “Nine or ten. Delia broke my little heart when she started dating one of my brothers.” Crash clutched her chest in a theatrical gesture.

  Jill chuckled. “That bitch.”

  “I got over it. Now we laugh about it every time we talk about it.”