Watermark

by Karin Kallmaker

  Joyner had stopped sucking. Rayann gently removed her pruney finger and settled Joyner on her lap. She looked adorable in the bunny sleeper Rayann

  had bought her for Easter. "So I shouldn't expect Teresa to be Louisa. But really, I hardly know her. I know what she's like to work with. She's funny and really intuitive. And she's thoughtful and vocal — she's not afraid to talk." Rayann lost her train of thought as she remembered Teresa's frantically whispered demands when they had made love. Teresa was cer¬tainly not afraid to say what she wanted.

  "So when are you getting married?"

  "Judy! That's not what I meant."

  "Don't wake up the peanut." Judy switched the pump to her other breast. "You're acting as if you have to decide right now, today, whether a woman you feel a physical attraction to is going to replace Louisa in your life."

  "I hurt her. I think she wants to be more than just a romp in the hay."

  "If that's going to happen, it'll happen. Just give it time. You got your condo keys today — you know what a drain moving is. Don't rush into anything."

  "Why were you never this full of advice before? You were always giving me the party line about not giving quickie answers to friends who needed profes¬sional help."

  Judy's smile was benign. "You're not talking to a therapist anymore. You're talking to a mom."

  "No one is ever going to replace Louisa."

  "Of course not. Not ever. You gave Louisa your whole heart. You're going to have to grow new places for new people to take root in you. Okay, that was a therapist talking. Maybe I should charge you."

  "I'll swap you babysitting." She looked down into

  Joyner's round face. Her entire body was devoted to sleeping. "If I could sleep like that I'd have the energy of twenty women. Moving would be a snap."

  "Now that she's here I do sleep like that. I don't have a choice."

  "Well, toddle off to bed. If she wakes up I'll feed her and keep her happy until Dee gets home."

  "Use the bottle I just filled. It can sit out for six hours without developing any bacteria. Thanks for the sleep." Judy paused long enough to gently kiss the little fist that had escaped the blanket.

  When Joyner stirred a half-hour later, Rayann rocked slowly and succeeded in putting her back to sleep. If only the world was this simple. Oh, Joyner, she thought. Love sucks. Stay this age forever. So what if you're toothless and incontinent? Someone else does all the work.

  There had been times when she would have given Joyner the advice to never fall in love. The pain was just not worth it. She seemed so fragile. Rayann wanted to protect her from all the bad in the world. Months of grieving had made her accept that you couldn't survive the bad without love, even if love hurt.

  How had Teresa gotten involved in this mess? What did she want from Teresa? What did she have to give Teresa in return?

  She was not ready to rush into anything. Judy — damn her — was right. She had given her whole heart to Louisa and there was nothing left for Teresa. At least not right now. Tomorrow she would start a new pattern of life, in a new home where Louisa had never set foot. The house in Oakland hadn't sold yet, so she was leaving almost all of the furniture there until it

  did. Her new home was going to be bare bones, making it even harder to feel as if it was home. She needed to guard against filling its emptiness with Teresa. Teresa deserved better.

  But as inappropriate as it was, she did not want to end things either. Being around Teresa made her feel more alive. It was as if Teresa possessed some magic spell that dispelled darkness and made ordinary light shimmer with rainbows.

  She really didn't know anything about her. Not her favorite movie, not her favorite artists. What if Teresa was one of those women who thought magazines were books? Did she like Virginia Woolf? Had she read any Henry James? Did she think that the movie Beloved lived up to the book?

  She relived those incredible hours in bed with Teresa. Louisa had been an amazing lover, the first lover to ever make Rayann understand what sweet surrender meant. She had given over complete control to Louisa, willingly. There had been no such need with Teresa, and therefore it had all felt different. Louisa had rarely needed to take. Teresa needed it and could say so. At no time had she been in any danger of thinking it was Louisa making love to her.

  What did she want from Teresa? What did she have to give in return? She rocked and her thoughts turned in circles.

  It was late when Dedric got home and by all rights, Rayann should have headed back to Oakland for as much sleep as possible. Instead, she drove to what would be her new home and parked in the underground garage. It felt odd. She was not willing to call it excitement yet.

  She let herself into the empty living room and

  waited a moment to get her bearings in the dark. She opened the curtains that blocked the view from the balcony and looked around her. Once her furniture came it would seem more like hers. But it wouldn't be the same. There would be no stack of thirty or so books waiting to be read, no half-done New York Times crossword on the kitchen counter. All the little things that would have made it Louisa's home would not be there. She would have to fill the space by herself.

  She stepped onto the balcony. The wind off the bay was sharp and cold, making the night skyline glitter. If you're looking for me, I'm here. Images of Teresa intruded and Rayann could not shake them away. Thinking of them both at the same time brought a sharp pang of guilt on both their behalves.

  The status quo was intolerable, but Teresa got through it every day. She found a core of what she supposed was professionalism that let her smile, talk and even joke with Rayann while every nerve in her body cried out for something more.

  It was pointless. It was all just wasted energy.

  When a meeting broke up, she heard Jim Dettman ask Rayann what she looked so happy about. Teresa had noticed it, too. Rayann was finally shining with light on the inside.

  "My broker says we have an offer on the house in Oakland. It looks like it should sail through and I won't have to live in two places anymore."

  "We had to do that once," Jim said. "We couldn't move all our stuff from the old house because the broker told us empty houses don't sell."

  "Exactly. It's been a while since I used packing crates for tables. But I love the location. The walk to the office takes me right past Specialty's in the morning. Those muffins are murder on my girlish waistline."

  They drifted toward Rayann's office while Teresa struggled with her unhappiness. Rayann had moved and she hadn't even known about that kind of signifi¬cant upheaval. She didn't even know where she'd moved to.

  What did she really know about Rayann? Did she go to Gay Pride? Did she like to dance? Who was her favorite artist? Did she like movies? Had she cried when Jadzia died?

  She asked herself how she could possibly be in love. The very idea was ridiculous.

  As she reached her cubicle she saw Diego putting something in her in-box. He tried to rev up around the corner when he saw her coming. "Negatory, my man. The three months were up two weeks ago."

  Diego switched on his luminous eyes. "Just one last little ad?"

  "No way. I'm through being your indentured servant. Go use those baby-seal eyes on someone else. I'm immune."

  "You have a heart of stone."

  Teresa picked up the art board and the revision worksheet as if it smelled. "I have enough of my own shitwork, thank you."

  He gave her a wounded look that was all pretense and took the project back. "I wish I had some status around here."

  "I wish I had a lifetime supply of C-cell batteries."

  Diego hooted and buzzed away. He didn't know the half of it. She'd taken to hiding the ones she bought, even if it was an entire Costco economy pack. Vivian and Kim were not only still hot and heavy, they were addicts.

  It was not fair that other people got to be in love.

  Hoping to improve her spirits, she got out her mural design and studied the snapshots she'd taken of the soon-to-be garden lot
and the surrounding buildings. When she'd visited the site she'd met with a few of the would-be painters — high school kids with not just enthusiasm, but some real talent as well. They'd sat down in the vacant lot amid the chunks of dirt and broken bottles and shown Teresa their own portfolios. It had felt strange, but not at all unwel¬come, to have these kids all looking at her as the professional.

  The garden would be a piece of nature in the center of concrete, asphalt and busy intersections. She'd decided on her concept: a mural that made the garden seem bigger, that let the flat lot seemingly fade into rolling hills covered with more flowers. It would be easy to paint by a group, too. If she measured out the line of sight properly, from the street it would look as if you'd found a door into the countryside. It would be visual space on a street that was one residential hotel after another.

  "Is that for the garden project?"

  For once she hadn't felt Rayann's approach. She

  flushed. "Sorry, I know it's supposed to be on my own time."

  "What own time? You're here so much there's no such thing. Can I see it?"

  Teresa had printed some preliminary designs on cardstock so they could be leaned against each other for the three-dimensional effect. "Like this, so that the buildings all around are no longer buildings, but hills and sky."

  "That's marvelous. And the yellow spectrum will reflect the weather conditions."

  "I hope so. I don't want a blazing blue sky when it's raining. I want people to forget it's a mural." Rayann had changed her perfume. She smelled faintly of peaches. Great, Teresa thought. If I want to stay sane I have to give up peach Snapple.

  "It's great. I can't imagine what would be better. This could really put you on the map as an artist."

  Teresa found she could chuckle. "Instead of a lowly computer designer cranking out shampoo display ads?" She waved a hand at the stack on her desk.

  "Maybe. You could move into freelance. But I'm not supposed to suggest that," Rayann said. "Jim will kill me. Philip will kill me. I will kill me."

  "Well, it'll be a while before I have those kinds of options."

  Henry slipped a file into Rayann's hands. "Philip is on his way down, too."

  "Thanks, Henry." She glanced back at the mural designs. "It really is terrific work."

  "Thanks." Teresa inhaled deeply when Rayann had left, catching the last of her scent before it drifted away. Her nose caught a whiff of something else —

  something savory and mouthwatering. She stood up and peered over the top of the cubicle wall.

  Philip was over near the elevators and behind him were white-clad caterers bearing steaming trays. Rayann was talking to him with a great deal of animation, then Henry threw open the doors to the big conference room. The caterers went in and a few moments later a blast of salsa music brought everyone to their feet.

  Teresa lost no time at the buffet line. Lunch had been a long time ago. The reason for the celebration was passed word of mouth — a record earnings quarter. Folks from other departments began pouring out of the stairwell and elevators.

  Sparkling cider had the same effect on Teresa as champagne. She found herself dancing while still holding her plate of Swedish meatballs and cheese. Gloria Estefan ordered her to do the Conga. She did.

  She gorged herself on Calamata olives, then joined the dancing for the last of "La Bamba." The taped music switched to a really upbeat version of "In the Mood." Her feet loved swing music. Mike Freeman caught her by the hand and away they went. As she swung around she saw that Rayann was dancing with Jim Dettman. Swing was obviously not a big favorite for other people. Rayann and Jim were the only other couple.

  The song was nearly over when Mike shouted, "Trade you," at Jim. Teresa collided with Rayann in the partner exchange and when the stars subsided realized that Jim and Mike had danced off with each other. The crowd was hooting with laughter.

  Rayann's eyes were full of amusement. Teresa

  shrugged and presented her hands, follower to leader. Rayann took them and swung her through a turn so quickly Teresa almost couldn't keep up. The crowd applauded and the song ended.

  "Sorry." Rayann let go of Teresa's hands. "I haven't led in ages."

  Teresa made room for an energetic group of hip-hoppers. "You were fine," she said. Rayann was flushed and smiling. She glowed with vitality. Looking at her hurt Teresa's eyes. She didn't know this Rayann, but she wanted to. She wanted to in the worst way.

  "Time for more cider," Rayann said, and she walked toward the buffet without a backward glance.

  The music was "Can't Touch This." A timely reminder, Teresa thought.

  "Rayann, you are a sight for sore eyes!"

  Rayann accepted Jill's bear hug. "I found myself with a free evening and my new digs are too empty to tolerate." Apart from a limited amount of bedroom furniture, a chair in the kitchen was the extent of the furnishings. The people who were buying the house in Oakland had run into a financing snag, so she had put off moving out any more of the furniture in case the house had to go back on the market.

  "Where'd you move to?" Jill didn't seem in the least surprised that Rayann had moved. Then again, Rayann hadn't been by the bar since the memorial ten months ago.

  "A condo south of Market. My mom knew the guy

  selling it and I got a decent deal. My commute is now a fifteen-minute walk, which I can really use." She slid onto a barstool.

  "What's your poison tonight?"

  At one time she would have grimaced over Jill's choice of words. Poison was a little too close to home. But she knew she was back in control. "I'll take one of your Manhattans. It's been too long."

  "An extra shot of bitters, right?"

  "You have a marvelous memory, Jill."

  Jill reached over the bar to tweak her cheek. "I always remember what my friends like."

  It was a quiet night. No one seemed interested in dancing, so Jill had the jukebox on low. There was no sign of the back-up bartender, either.

  "Danny will be here in a while," Rayann said. "I have to admit she's the one who called me. It feels like ages since we saw each other." The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the door banged open and Danny sauntered through.

  Her hug was as enthusiastic as Jill's. "Corona, barkeep, and step on it."

  Jill affectionately flipped Danny off, then brought Rayann's Manhattan and a chilled bottle of beer. No glass for Danny.

  "You look great, Ray. How's life?" Danny asked.

  Jill leaned on the bar and listened in.

  "Life is good. Better than I thought it could be for a while."

  "I'm glad for your sake." Danny chugged from the bottle. "Been a long day, but I made up my mind that I'm retiring. I have rebuilt my last engine. This guy at some technical school has been after me to teach Rolls and Mercedes engine repair and I think I'm

  going to do it. Hours are shorter, and it's decent enough pay considering I won't really be working and lots and lots of days off. Marilyn wants to buy a motorhome."

  "It sounds ideal, Danny," Jill said. "You know what retired bartenders do?"

  Danny shook her head.

  "Tend bar."

  "That's grim." Danny finished the beer and squinted into the empty bottle. "They're making these smaller."

  "No, you're just drinking them faster."

  "Well, hell. One's my limit."

  "I'm going broke on customers like you." Jill went to the other end of the bar to clear glasses from a departing couple.

  "Danny, I just wanted to tell you — thank you."

  "For what?" Danny's inability to meet Rayann's gaze said she knew perfectly well for what.

  "For all that you did while Lou was sick. I couldn't have made it through without you."

  -Danny tried to shrug it off. "There wasn't any¬thing I wouldn't have done for Lou."

  "And she knew that."

  "I didn't realize she was dying until she was gone. I didn't want to accept it. I was sure the doctors were a bunch of fuckups."


  "We all dealt with it in different ways."

  "When my time comes I hope I can deal with it as well as Lou did."

  Rayann raised her glass. "Hear, hear."

  "To hell with my limit." Danny waved at Jill. "Barkeep, one more Corona, and step on it."

  "And the horse you rode in on," Jill yelled back.

  She delivered the Corona and uncapped a Diet Coke of her own.

  "To Louisa," Danny said.

  They clinked glasses.

  Rayann didn't know what made her turn her head and look through the lattice into the cafe. But she was not surprised to see Teresa's eyes, gazing back at her.

  Time only seemed to stand still, but it was a singular sensation. She felt at once pierced and made whole with the passion in Teresa's eyes. She re¬membered the fevered rush she had felt dancing with Teresa. It had only been a few moments and several weeks ago now, but she remembered it vividly with same fevered rush she'd felt then. It had been years and years since she had been the one to lead. It had felt good to flex that muscle and it reminded her of how heady it had been to know how much Teresa had needed her, wanted her.

  Teresa seemed to be having a late dinner with a very good-looking woman — stylish to the max. A girl¬friend, maybe?

  It would be rude not to go and say something to her, Rayann thought. But Teresa wasn't getting up either. Had they come to this? Unable to manage the basic civilities because they couldn't keep their hands off each other? Rayann reminded herself she was in complete control. But she did not get up.

  "You look like you just saw a ghost." Danny swiveled in the direction of Rayann's gaze.

  "Just someone I work with."

  "Speaking of ghosts, the weirdest thing happened a couple of nights ago. You know I don't believe in all that life-after-death crap, and I know damn well Louisa is having way too much fun wherever she is to

  be watching over the likes of me. But I was just about asleep when I had this compelling urge to turn on the TV to channel six. You know what was on?"