"I know," she said, a sheepish grin on her face as she stood. "I’m not blaming you, Peter," she insisted. "But I’ve really missed you."
He stooped to pick up his bag, then slung an arm around her shoulders. "Please don’t think I doubt your sincerity, Mop Top," he teased, reverting to a once-hated childhood nickname. "But when you miss your big brother, it’s usually because you’re in some kind of trouble that you don’t know how to get out of. What is it this time?" His blue eyes were gentle and filled with equal parts affection and resignation.
"Nothing!" she said sharply, her eyes sparking with indignation. "Can’t I simply be happy to see you?"
Pulling her to a quiet corner of the waiting area, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders and said, "Of course you can, and I’m happy to see you, too. But you haven’t been calling – you haven’t been writing – and you haven’t been going home recently. It doesn’t take too much extrapolation to leap to the conclusion that something’s going on with you. It might be good, or it might be bad, but it’s something. Do you want to tell me now, so I can help deflect the Grand Inquisitor?" he joked, referring to their mother. "Or do you want to wing it?"
She sighed heavily and took her cell phone from her bag. Speed dialing a number, she rolled her eyes at him and said, "Hi, Mom, it’s me. Peter’s flight’s delayed, so don’t expect us home soon. No, it’s no problem. I’ll wait in the bar." With another sigh she met her brother’s amused smile and added, "I’m legal now, Mom. You won’t have to bail me out – it’s not against the law to have a drink in an airport." She couldn’t help but chuckle as she said, "Yes, you’re right. It’s not a single drink that lands me into trouble. I’ll behave." She took Peter’s arm and led him to the first bar they encountered. "Okay. I’ll call when we’re leaving. I love you too, Mom."
She snapped the cover closed and sighed, "Don’t you dare laugh! She doesn’t watch you like a hawk!"
"She doesn’t need to," he said, leading her to a corner table and signaling the waitress.
They chatted companionably while they waited for their drinks, with Mia occasionally reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. Peter wasn’t nearly as openly demonstrative as his sister, but he gracefully accepted her loving touches, and occasionally gave her a gentle pat as well. Their drinks were nearly ready for a refill when he asked, "Ready to spill the beans?"
She shrugged her shoulders, not feeling ready, but knowing that it didn’t help to delay. "I’ve fallen in love," she said, deciding to get right to it.
As his head cocked, his eyebrow lifted. "So far, so good. I assume there’s more?"
"Yeah. There’s a little more. Uhm … it’s someone from school. One of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Bright, sensitive, funny, and very gifted athletically."
"You with an athlete? That’s a shock. You’ve always hated jocks."
"Very gifted," she emphasized. "A member of the Olympic volleyball team," she added, completely avoiding the use of pronouns.
Recognition dawning in his gentle blue eyes, he reached across the table and grasped her hand. "I assume Mom and Dad don’t know?"
"Don’t know what?" she asked warily.
"That you’ve jumped the fence." His lips twitched into a small smile as he asked, "I thought you were so certain that you were only interested in experimenting with women, Mia. What pushed you over?"
"Jordan," she sighed dreamily. "Jordan Ericsson, the most beautiful, loving woman on the planet."
His smile grew as he watched his sister’s face. Her gentle, warm, peaceful expression reflected a calm he had rarely observed. "This is the real thing, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," she sighed. "There’s not a doubt in my mind about her. I’m just worried about – everything else," she grimaced, the restless, slightly agitated look back in force.
"Hey, don’t go off the deep end. If you’re sure about this, it can work out. Tell me about her."
The warm sparkle came back into her eyes as she wrinkled up her nose and asked, "Wanna see her picture?"
"Sure. I’d love to." He didn’t know what to expect, having seen his sister run through the gamut of ‘types’ when it came to men. His forehead twitched into a frown as he observed her take the latest issue of Martha Stewart Living out of her bag.
She thumbed through it until she got to an ad for "Polo" by Ralph Lauren, then pointed to the tall, lean woman in a strapless, black velvet evening gown, straddling an equally gorgeous wavy haired young man dressed in a tuxedo, sitting on an old wooden swing hanging from a huge tree branch. The man was grinning at her like he was barely able to stop himself from ravishing her, and her head was thrown back, allowing her long, golden hair to drape down her bare back. Peter’s eyes popped out as he considered that he would have gladly traded places with the man in the picture, or with his sister, for that matter. "This is your girlfriend?" he gaped.
"No, that’s the perfume she wears," she scoffed, slapping his shoulder. "Actually, they gave her enough of the stuff to fill a bathtub. Or a trash can," she added, wrinkling her nose.
"Your girlfriend is a model, and an Olympic athlete?" he mumbled, unable to take his eyes off the lovely woman in the picture. Jordan’s hands were grasping the sturdy rope that held the swing up, and her well-defined biceps curved a bit to very good effect. The bustline of the dress swept across the tops of her full breasts, creating a delicious-looking expanse of cleavage. Full lips beckoned the man in the picture, and Peter imagined having those lips … He was ripped from his musings by being hit sharply with the rolled up magazine.
"She’s mine, ya know!"
Rubbing his hand over his face, he fought down the flush that he knew was rising on his cheeks. "Shit. I’m sorry, Mia, but you show me a picture like that – you can’t expect me not to react! Dad will do the same!"
"Great! just what I need. The three of us can sit around and drool over her while Mom loads the gun!"
He chuckled while shaking his head. "We don’t have a gun. You know Mom’s more the butcher knife type, anyway."
Even through her anxiety, she couldn’t help but laugh at that. "I guess you’re right. I don’t have to be able to outrun a bullet. I only have to be able to outrun you and Dad."
His eyes grew serious as he asked, "Are you gonna tell them?"
"Not yet," she said, shaking her head briskly. "I’m not ready yet, Peter. I mean, I’m not unsure about Jordan, but I don’t have answers to the questions that I know they’ll ask. I feel like I need an iron-clad case before I bring it up."
"They love you, Mia; you don’t have to defend yourself to them. I know it will be hard at first, but they’ll get over it."
"Maybe," she nodded, "but I’ve seen what happened to Jamie this year, and I worry that it’ll be the same for me."
"How’s she doing?" Peter asked. "I wrote her a note after the car-jacking. She sent me a nice one back."
"Yeah, she told me," she said, touched by her brother’s thoughtfulness. "She’s doing better now. Ryan’s still having a tough time, though. She doesn’t say anything, but she’s a lot jumpier since it happened. Not that I blame her," she said, shivering at the memory.
"Is Jamie happy, Mia? Is this all working out for her?"
Her lips curled into a wide grin as she said, "I’ve never seen her happier, Peter. She finally seems to know who she is, and she’s growing and changing in ways that truly amaze me. It’s been great to watch and be a part of."
"The same might happen to you, Mia," he gently suggested. "I mean, yeah, it’ll be hard for Mom and Dad to accept, but if this is who you are – they need to know it."
Her chin tilted up as her brow furrowed. "Who I am?"
"Yeah. They need to know that you’re a lesbian," he said, confused by her startled expression.
"I’m not, Peter," she said quietly. "That’s part of the problem."
"But I thought that …"
"Look," she said, folding her hands on the table and rubbing her thumbs together as she organized her thoughts
. "I’m in love with Jordan. I would happily remain in a monogamous lesbian relationship for as long as we can make this work. But I’m not a lesbian, Peter. I love men, and I always will. I just don’t want to love them while I’m with Jordan."
"I see," he said, scratching the back of his head in an indication that he actually did not.
"That’s my problem," she insisted. "If I were a lesbian, I wouldn’t have a problem with telling Mom and Dad. They’d flip out, but they’d get over it. It’s much, much harder to explain to someone that you’re in a lesbian relationship – that you love a woman – but aren’t gay. I don’t think they’ll get it, Peter."
He nodded slowly, and Mia saw that he was finally understanding her point. "I think I see one potential argument they’ll have," he said.
"What’s that?"
"It’s one thing if you’re only attracted to women. But if you can love men, why choose to love a woman? You’re voluntarily putting yourself into a group that society in general doesn’t approve of."
"Exactly!" she cried. "That’s exactly what Mom will say, Peter! I can hear her now!"
"Is your girlfriend a lesbian?" he asked. "She sure doesn’t look like one."
The scowl on her face made him wish he could suck his last statement back in, but it was out now and he tried to explain, "I didn’t mean that like it sounded, Mia. That was … well, that was a stupid thing to say."
She patted his hand and said, "Don’t feel bad. Everybody does it, Peter. I’ve done it myself." She reached into her wallet and found the little schedule for the volleyball team that showed a fierce looking Jordan elevating to go for a kill. Gazing at it fondly for a moment, she handed it over, saying, "This is how she looks when she’s not in makeup and a gown. It would be hard to guess that she’s gay," she said. "But she is. I’m pretty sure this is a life-long commitment for her."
He looked at the photo for a long while, finally saying, "I can’t imagine what that would be like. I mean, I knew I liked girls when I was in pre-school. I can’t imagine how weird it would feel to one day wake up and find out that I was into guys – but hadn’t known it."
She chuckled and said, "I think it’s a little more involved than that, Peter. She’s had lesbian leanings for a long while. She’s just now ready to commit to it."
"How does she feel about the fact that you don’t feel like a lesbian?" he asked, handing back the schedule with a vague note of regret.
"Mmm … she says she’s fine with it, but I think it bothers her more than she lets on. I think there’s a part of her that worries I’ll find some guy that I like better, and dump her."
"That’s not how you are," he said defensively. "You hang in there and try to make things work!"
Mia beamed a smile at her brother and nodded. "Yeah. I know I do, but she’s never known me when I’m in a relationship. This is all new for both of us."
He reached across the table and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I think you should wait to tell Mom and Dad. I think you need to see how this goes and make sure you’re in it for the long haul before you freak them out."
She nodded briskly, her curls tossing about her head. "I think I’d already decided that. Now I have to figure out how to plan for next year without them finding out."
"Next year?"
She checked her watch and said, "I’ll tell you in the car. I know Mom will freak about Jordan, but Dad will freak about the other little matter that’s come up."
"Little matter?" he asked as he got to his feet and grabbed his bag.
"Not so little, actually," she said, knowing that deciding to attend Stanford Law would ameliorate any wrongs she committed – at least in her father’s eyes.
A gentle hand stroked languidly through her curls, causing Mia to sigh heavily and curl her body around the warmth that she unconsciously sought. "Mmm, nice," she murmured, as she tightened her embrace while arching her back in a long stretch. Her head shook to clear the cobwebs, then she rolled onto her back and looked up into Jordan’s clear blue … "Mom!"
Anna Lisa Christopher gazed fondly into her daughter’s dark eyes and moved her hand from her hair to her cheek. Brushing the backs of her fingers along the smooth surface she said, "God willing, some day you’ll have a daughter, Mia, and you’ll know the feeling I get in my heart when I watch you sleep."
A slow, drowsy smile settled onto Mia’s face and she nuzzled against her mother’s hip. Her relaxed, unguarded posture left her totally unprepared for the sharp sting when her cheek was grabbed and pinched firmly. "Pray that your daughter doesn’t keep secrets from you like you do from me!"
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" the younger woman cried as she tried to follow her mother’s hand to relieve the pressure on her face. "Lemme go!"
Releasing her, Anna Lisa leaned forward until their nearly identical brown eyes were inches from each other. "Who are you sleeping with so often that your body thinks he’s beside you in bed? Is this why you don’t come to visit anymore?"
"No!" she scowled, rubbing her cheek. "I don’t come home because I don’t like to be assaulted!" Throwing off the covers, Mia exited the bed from the other side, trying to stay as far away from her mother’s strong grip as possible.
The two fiery women stood at opposite sides of the bed, regarding each other warily. "Mia," Anna Lisa warned, "you know we have a deal. It’s obvious you haven’t kept up your end of the bargain. Now who is he?"
Mia rolled her eyes, mentally kicking herself for promising that she would always keep her mother informed when she got serious about anyone. In exchange for her promise, Anna Lisa had agreed to never question Mia about her sex life. It had seemed like a good idea when she had struck the deal in high school – and didn’t have the money to purchase birth control on her own. But now she deeply regretted both having made, and then having reneged on, the agreement. Considering how to extricate herself from this dilemma, while her mother’s dark eyes bore into her, she decided to adopt one of Ryan’s tactics.
"Okay," she sighed. "You’re right, Mom. There is someone, and we are serious about each other."
Anna Lisa’s hands went to her hips and she glared at her child with a triumphant expression. "I knew it!"
"I’m sorry, Mom," she added, her genuine sincerity boosted to the highest level she could summon. "I haven’t told you, and it was wrong of me."
The rigid stance shifted, then softened, then Anna Lisa opened her arms and beckoned her daughter to come to her. Mia did so, letting her mother envelop her in a warm hug. "Why didn’t you tell me? It hurts me to have you keep your life so secret."
"I’m sorry, I really am," Mia sighed. "I … well, I have some things that I have to work out before I’m going to be ready to talk about this." She pulled away and gazed directly into her mother’s eyes and promised, "That doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or trust you, Mom. It only means that I’m confused about this, and talking about it now won’t help."
"Since when can’t I help you get through something, Mia? We’ve been through so much together! I’ve worked so hard to listen to you, and not judge you!"
"I know, Mom," she soothed, leaning in for another hug. "I swear that this isn’t about you." Releasing her mother with a gentle pat, she straightened up and said, "There are just some things that I have to work out on my own, Mom. This is one of them."
Anna Lisa looked at the calm, determined look in her child’s eyes, and heard herself say, "All right, Mia. I won’t ask again."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really. You’re old enough to know what you need at this point in your life. I’m here for you, Mia, and I know that you know that. I must know one thing, though," she said, an unyielding expression in her eyes.
"What’s that?"
"You’re not in any trouble, are you? You’re not pregnant or using drugs again, or …"
"Mom," she said firmly, holding up a hand. "Stop! Nothing is wrong, I swear. I’m very happily in love with a wonderful person, who I know you and Dad will love. It’s other …
circumstances that are the problem, and as soon as I figure out all of the details, I’ll tell you everything. I promise," she vowed. "I’m very happy, Mom." The smile she beamed at her mother was a clear indication of her veracity, and the older woman reached for her once again.
Stiffening, Anna Lisa grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. "He isn’t married, is he?"
"No. Definitely not, Mom. This is an issue between the two of us … no angry lovers, no spiteful ex’s. I swear," she said. "I’m very happy, and I’m sure we can work things out."
"If you’re happy, I’m happy, Mia. That’s all I want for you."
They stood quietly, holding each other for a long while, until Anna Lisa released her – but not before slapping her gently on her butt. "You’re too skinny! Come down for breakfast right now, and eat something substantial for a change!"
Anna Lisa stood in the bedroom she shared with her husband of 25 years and said, "I think she’s all right, Adam. She admitted that she’s fallen in love, but she won’t talk about him."
"She won’t?" he asked slowly, knowing that his wife could make a rock talk if she set her mind to it.
Sighing deeply, an expression of resignation on her face, she said, "It’s time I stepped back and let her make her own way. She’ll tell us when she’s ready."
With a broad smile, Adam wrapped his wife in a warm embrace, then tilted her head up to kiss her. "That must be hard for you, but I think it’s the right thing to do. If she doesn’t feel like she’s going to be questioned so intently, she might be willing to come home more often."
Returning the soft kiss, Anna Lisa shook her head, while giving her husband a smile. "No, that’s not it. She doesn’t come home because she wants this man in her bed. She’s not ready to tell us, so she can’t bring him home with her. As soon as she figures out whatever it is that she has to figure out, I think we can convince her to visit more often – and bring him with her."
Adam smiled at his wife, frankly amazed at the change in her attitude. "You’d let her sleep with her boyfriend in the house?"
Monogamy Page 21
