Monogamy

by Susan X Meagher

  Ryan reached up and pulled her sunglasses up so that Catherine could see her eyes. "Was that a serious question?"

  Swatting her again, the older woman said, "You’re very impish today, aren’t you?"

  "A little," she said. "And yes, I agree that Jamie looks adorable. She looks good in those colors. Makes her hair look even blonder."

  The Cal uniform consisted of a navy blue visor with Cal in bright gold script, a white polo shirt with a golden bear paw on the left sleeve, a navy blue sleeveless sweater with the Cal logo on the breast, and unadorned navy blue shorts. Ryan noted that under her white and navy saddle-style golf shoes, Jamie wore short socks with a bit of gold on the cuff.

  "She really enjoys this, doesn’t she?" Catherine asked quietly, so as not to be heard by the players.

  "Yeah. It’s been good for her. I had the feeling at first that she tried out for the team to make her father proud, but over time she seems to have changed her focus. I think she’s doing this only for herself."

  Catherine reached down and grasped her daughter-in-law’s hand. "She needs to do something that she’s better at than you, too. You’re a tough person to compete against, Ryan O’Flaherty."

  Ryan nodded, acknowledging the truth to Catherine’s statement, even though it embarrassed her to do so. "I think she’s far superior to me in dozens of ways, but I realize that she doesn’t always see that. I get a lot of acclaim for the things that I do, and Jamie deserves some of that, too."

  "She does," Catherine said. "I’m glad that she’s got this. And I’m glad that you’ve encouraged her to play – even though it takes away from your time together."

  "If everything goes according to plan, we’re in year one of a minimum 75 year plan," Ryan said. "I can bear having her gone for a day or two."

  "I hope your plans all come true," Catherine said, squeezing the hand that she still held.

  Jamie finished her round with a very respectable 73, and she seemed pleased with herself when she emerged from her tunnel-visioned state. After greeting her mother, the three of them walked back two holes to find Lauren’s group. The freshman was not having a very good day, and she looked very downhearted as she finished with a 77. Her parents were there to greet her when she holed out, and Jamie was pleased to see that they met her with smiles and encouraging hugs. "Who’s up for lunch?" she asked, now that she felt able to leave the course.

  "I could be persuaded," Ryan said. "Wanna go to the clubhouse?"

  "No way," Jamie said. "I have to eat dinner there tonight. The food’s not bad, but it’s not very inventive. I need something spicy."

  As usual, Catherine knew of a place. They drove in Ryan’s car to a very tasty sushi bar, where Jamie’s spicy craving was well satisfied. At the end of the meal, she admonished Ryan to stay home the next day. "I’ll see you when you get home from softball practice," she insisted. "You need to go to your classes tomorrow."

  "All right," Ryan said, her blue eyes peeking out of her bangs while she pouted. "But only if you’re going to be here to watch," she said, looking to Catherine.

  "I wouldn’t miss it," the older woman said. "And I promise to call you when she finishes her first nine holes for an update."

  "Now, that I can live with," Ryan said.

  Part 18

  Later that afternoon, Ryan spent some time trying to track down one of her classmates to see what had gone on in class while she was playing hooky at the golf course. She was cutting across campus when she spotted Franny Sumitomo from the basketball team. "Hey, Franny! Wait up!"

  The shy freshman stopped immediately, then turned and smiled when she saw Ryan. "Hi. How are you, Ryan? Feeling better?"

  "Yeah, yeah, things are going pretty well. I’m with the softball team now, you know. Not to dis you guys, but the atmosphere is a heck of a lot better."

  "You don’t have to tell me," Franny said. She looked around rather furtively, then said in a quiet voice, "I’ve been talking to the coaches at Oregon and Washington State about transferring. I don’t think I can stand another year here."

  "Really? That surprises me," Ryan said. "I know it’s important for you to be close to home – and I know that you parents enjoy watching you play. They came to every home game, didn’t they?"

  "Yes, they did," she said, "but Stanford isn’t interested in me. Their point guard is a freshman, too, and there’s no way I’m a better player than she is. Oregon and Washington State could both use me, and sitting out a year wouldn’t be too horrible. I mean, it’s not what I want – but I haven’t had any fun this year at all, and it seems silly to work this hard if it’s not enjoyable."

  "Well, the two people I had the most trouble with will be gone next year," Ryan said. "Won’t that help?"

  "Yes, I suppose so. But, to be honest – I don’t trust Coach Hayes. She’s let Janet and Wendy ruin this year for all of us. I think she lets her personal feelings for people get in the way of making the proper coaching decisions. I don’t even know if she cares anymore, Ryan. We’ve got 6 games left and the team is sleep-walking during practice. I’d quit now if it wouldn’t look so bad to the coaches at Oregon and WSU."

  "Look, Franny, I know this year has been hard for you, but give it a couple of weeks before you make a decision about transferring. I also think you should talk to the coach about how you feel. She can be surprisingly empathetic if you catch her on a good day."

  "Maybe I’ll talk to Lynette," Franny decided. "I don’t know if I have time to wait for a good mood to overtake Coach Hayes."

  When she got home from school, Ryan called the private investigator, Dick Williams. "Hi, Mr. Williams, it’s Ryan O’Flaherty."

  "Hi, Ryan. I was just about to wrap up our little matter. I’ve got some interesting things for you."

  "Could I add one little bit, Mr. Williams? I know I wanted you to focus on Cassie Martin, but there are two more people who might have had a hand in this, and in a way, they’re nearly as culpable as Cassie is."

  "Sure, Ryan. Give me their names, and I’ll get right on it."

  On Tuesday morning, Ryan brought the papers in before she took off for school. As was her habit, she unfolded them and placed then on the kitchen table so that her partner had them waiting for her. Even though Jamie wouldn’t be home until late afternoon, Ryan wanted to maintain their normal routine to welcome her partner home. The New York Times was first, since Jamie said she had to read a real paper before she could stomach the Comical, as she called it. As Ryan set the Chronicle into place, she stopped abruptly when she spied the story on the bottom corner of the front page. "Sen. Evans fully backs Admin on gay policies."

  This should be good, she said, rolling her eyes in reaction. She scanned the article, then went back and re-read it, shaking her head. What in the holy hell is wrong with that guy? It’s like he can’t stand to have things go well for any length of time.

  Picking up the phone, Ryan dialed Jamie’s cell, smiling gently when her lover picked up on the first ring. "This had better be my father, saying that he was maliciously misquoted," the blonde said.

  "No, it’s just me, offering sympathy."

  "Well, that wasn’t the best headline for me to see first thing this morning," Jamie said. "Poor Lauren nearly fainted at the string of profanities that I let out. I think she’s down talking with Scott right now about changing roommates."

  "Hey, you’re understandably upset," Ryan assured her.

  "Yeah, upset about covers it. My stupid father got cornered and declared that he supported ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, and the congressional ‘defense of marriage’ bill."

  "I can’t understand why he’d do that," Ryan said. "He’s already said he’s against Proposition 22. Isn’t the defense of marriage bill the same thing?"

  "It is to me," Jamie said. "In fact, the defense of marriage bill is worse in my opinion. It not only prohibits the federal government from recognizing gay marriage, it forbids the government from honoring marriages that individual states sanction. That’s far
worse than Prop 22. He’s like a friggin’ pendulum. Every bit of progress is met by an equal amount of backsliding."

  "It does seem that way, doesn’t it," Ryan sympathized. "I’m pissed at him as your father, and I’m pissed at him as my senator. This sucks."

  "It does," Jamie agreed, "and now I’ve got to call and scream at him before I go play tournament golf."

  "I’ve gotta run, babe. I’ve got my cell phone on. If you need to call me – please do."

  "Thanks. Have a good day. I’ll give Daddy your disgust."

  Jamie waited patiently while her father’s secretary searched for him. He was in the Senate chambers, but he stepped outside and placed a return call on his cell phone. "Hi, Jamie, what’s up?" he asked, oblivious to her pique.

  "I was more than a little upset to see your comments on those ridiculous policies the administration is backing, Dad."

  "Huh … oh! Uhm … why would my comments upset you, honey? Those policies aren’t new."

  "Why on earth would you stand up against Prop 22, and yet say that you’re in favor of the defense of marriage bill?" she nearly screamed. "That’s so inconsistent."

  "Yeah, it probably is … a little bit," he agreed, "but the administration didn’t feel they could take the risk of going against the defense of marriage bill. It’s only politics, Jamie."

  Sighing heavily, she said, "It might be politics to you, but it’s my life and my civil rights you idiots in Washington are playing with!"

  "Hey!" he snapped, "I can hear that you’re angry, but I don’t appreciate being called an idiot!"

  "Supporting the defense of marriage bill, while decrying the politics behind Prop 22 is idiotic," she said, enunciating each word.

  "That’s your opinion, Jamie, but I would think you’d have some sympathy for the position we’re in here. It doesn’t do much good to take the kind of stand you advocate if you’re then voted out of office. You have to compromise, and take it slow."

  She paused for a moment and quietly asked, "Dad, I have a question for you, and I’d appreciate a straight answer."

  "Okay," he said hesitantly.

  "How do you personally feel about those two issues? I don’t want the administration’s position. I want yours."

  "Well," he said, delaying his answer as long as possible, "I uhm … guess that I tend to agree with the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. I mean, I know it’s not the best solution, but the leaders of the military are clear that it can’t work to allow gay people to serve alongside straight ones. I think we have to defer to their expertise."

  "Uh-huh. We have to defer to their sweeping prejudices about gay people, about women serving in a combat role, etcetera, etcetera. Those are the people who you want to make social policy, right, Dad?"

  "I know it’s not perfect, Jamie, I’ve already said that. But we have to have some policy, and this is the one that seems to be working."

  She tried to control the steam that threatened to whistle from her ears, and asked her follow up question. "What about gay marriage? Where … do … you … stand?"

  "I uhm … I think that gay people can definitely form loving unions that are as valid as a nor … uhm … regular … couple can have. You and Ryan are good examples of that."

  "Uh-huh. Go on."

  "But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give state sanction to those unions. I think it sets a bad example for kids."

  "What?"

  "Now, don’t get defensive," he said sharply. "You wanted to know my position, and I’m telling you."

  "Fine. Tell me how it sets a bad example."

  "Well, if someone is having a hard time deciding if they’re gay or straight, having the option of full acceptance might push him or her over the edge. If we retain some social disapproval, that person might stay straight. I honestly think it’s best to urge people to be straight if they can be."

  Ignoring the idiocy of his answer, she posed her second question. "What about having children, Dad? What about adopting?"

  "Uhm … I’m sure that you and Ryan would be fine parents, Jamie, but again, I don’t think the state should place children in a gay home. It gives the child an impression that can be dangerous."

  She was quiet for a minute, her roiling stomach urging her to spit out some of the venom that was coursing through her gut. "And yet, you’ve agreed to participate in our wedding. Are you going to make a little speech about how our union sets a bad example? For God’s sake, at least have the courage of your convictions! If you think our union is wrong, I don’t want you there! And if you think our children will be raised in a dangerous environment I don’t want you to have anything to do with them!"

  "Jamie, please, don’t go off the deep end."

  "Look, Dad, I knew that you were having trouble with this, but I can’t have you participate in my marriage if you think it’s morally wrong. That’s not going to happen. I’m marrying Ryan in August, whether or not you’re there. Think about it and let me know if you’ll be part of our celebration." With that, she hung up, and pushed the off button on her phone. Thank God he’s four thousand miles away. I might actually strangle him if I could get my hands around his neck!

  Ryan called about an hour later, inquiring after Jamie’s mental health. "It didn’t go well," the blonde said. She proceeded to give her partner the low points, then added, "Right now I’m trying to think of how to get a blood sample from him to do some DNA testing. I’m absolutely sure he’s not related to my grandfather, or to me!" She let out a deep sigh, then said, "Wish me luck. I tee off in 10 minutes. I’m going to picture my father’s face on the golf ball – that should improve the length of my drives."

  Knowing they would have a fiery, emotion-filled evening, Ryan poked her head in the front door after softball, slightly afraid that Jamie would be hurling breakables at the walls. But the house was completely quiet, save for some soft music coming from the second floor.

  Immensely pleased at the encouraging sign, Ryan nearly skipped up the stairs. She was more excited about seeing Jamie than she could convey, and her skin was tingling when she tossed open the door to their bedroom. "Where’s the most beautiful woman in the world?" she called out.

  "She’d better be opening the bathroom door to give me a proper welcome home," her lover replied.

  Ryan pushed the door open a crack to find Jamie neck deep in a fragrant bubble bath. A tray filled with every possible type of sushi and sashimi was resting on the counter, along with a massive bottle of Kirin beer nestled in an ice bucket, alongside two plastic glasses. Placing her hands on her hips, Ryan shook her head and said, "You never cease to amaze me."

  "Don’t stand there gaping at me," the low voice purred. "Drop those sweaty clothes and get in here."

  Ryan did so, pausing to brush her teeth first. "I want to make a good impression," she winked.

  She knew she’d have trouble kissing her partner once she got in, so the brunette knelt on the floor and spent a few minutes showing Jamie how lonely her lips had been. She did such a good job that the smaller woman considered ditching the dinner and the bath, but thought better of it when she realized she was starving. "Come on in, love. Bring the tray with you."

  Ryan did so, securing the legs of the bed-tray as she placed it right next to the tub. It took a few minutes of fitting the human puzzle-pieces together, but she was soon nestled between Jamie’s thighs – her most favorite place on earth. "Could I be happier than this?" she asked rhetorically. "I think not."

  "I’m pretty high on the happiness scale, too," the blonde murmured, leaning forward for a few nibbles of salty skin.

  "How can that be?" Ryan wondered. "I thought you’d be foaming at the mouth about your dad."

  "No, I unloaded on my father, but I’m pretty calm now." She shook her head and said, "Damn, Ryan, he and I sure set each other off."

  "I know," the larger woman soothed. "Did you talk to your mom about what happened?"

  "Yeah," Jamie replied glumly. "I talked to Poppa, too. Neither one
of them seemed surprised by his position, and they each think that he’ll slowly alter his view." She shrugged and said, "Maybe I’m too impatient."

  "You’re hurt," Ryan said, resting her head on her lover’s chest. After a moment, she felt Jamie start to relax, and soon their bodies were molded together. "I’m hurt, too," Ryan added.

  "I guess that’s it," Jamie said softly. "It’s stunningly hurtful to have your father tell you that he thinks you’d be a bad influence on a child." She leaned forward to look at her partner, pain filling in her eyes. "How could he think that?"

  "Easy," she sighed. "He’s letting his deeply held prejudices color his actions. It would be bad enough if he was only a parent, but he’s a senator, too. His actions affect millions and millions of people."

  "It is just prejudice, isn’t it."

  "Yep. It’s taking something that bothers you on a visceral level, and then intellectualizing a way to rationalize discrimination. For what it’s worth, it’s usually not done with malevolence. I’m sure your father believes what he said. He’s got so many negative images of gay people burned into his brain that he can’t let the positive images overcome them."

  "But what do we do, honey? How do we reach him?"

  "One thing is for sure. We don’t cut off contact with him. He needs to be around people who see us as complete human beings. Being around my family can only help."

  Jamie nodded slowly. "You’re right of course, but I can’t bear the thought of seeing him right now." She shuddered and said, "He sent me an e-mail this afternoon where he justified discriminating against us with the analogy that it’s the same as discriminating against blind people who want a driver’s license. just because you can’t let them drive, doesn’t mean you think they’re bad or wrong for being blind. You’re only trying to protect society at large."

  "Ouch!" Ryan said, making a face. "So being gay is a disability, or a birth defect, huh? Nice."

  Jamie colored a little and revealed, "I shot back an e-mail that I’m not proud of. If he were President, the Secret Service would be over here by now."