Stumbling on the Sand

by Jenna Rae

  Del frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s who you are inside. You always want to do the right thing. You always want to tell the truth. You always fight for the little guy. It makes life so hard, you work all the time, you never stop to breathe. But I saw you back then, and you were such a warrior woman. So strong, so beautiful. You shine from the inside.” Lola’s wide eyes were golden in the morning light.

  “Come on,” Del protested, blushing.

  “I mean it. And on top of that, you’re incredibly sexy. You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You hate your hair, and it’s like this halo. You hate your curves because they get in your way, and they’re beautiful to me. Your eyes are so bright and full of life, and you don’t seem to see that when you look at yourself. You’re tall and strong and golden and gorgeous, and you have no idea.”

  Del let herself stroke Lola’s soft, curved cheek, smiling at the way her finger trembled at the contact. “I remember the first time we met,” she said. “Marco and Phil were having that neighborhood safety meeting. You had such long hair. You were so shy and serious.”

  “Orrin didn’t like me to cut my hair,” Lola said. She shrugged and sat up, away from Del. “I was a freak. I was a mess.”

  Del shook her head. “You were beautiful. Especially when you smiled. I was a goner from that second. Then I saw you at the book club and you were even more stunning. You’d cut your hair, you had this little jacket on, but it was you—you were standing tall, you were smiling, and it was like someone had been covering you up and you got out into the light. As time goes by you just become more and more of yourself. I stand back and watch you and can’t get over how amazing you are. It’s fantastic.”

  Lola stared at her. “I didn’t know you saw me like that.”

  “I should have found a way to tell you.” Del sat up too and watched Lola’s shoulders tense as if in defense.

  “We’re both learning.” Lola stood up and eyed Del from across the bed. “Seriously, are you okay?”

  Del thought about this for a moment and shrugged. “I think so.”

  “I know you need to get to work, and I have stuff to do too. You’d said you might want to go to book club together Friday night. Still up for it?”

  Del nodded.

  “Good.” She came around the bed, smiled and kissed Del’s hand. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

  A moment later, the shower started running. Del sat alone listening to the water. She felt her whole body tingling, painfully tender. Her skin felt damp from Lola’s mouth. She was dizzy. She wanted more than anything to follow Lola into the shower but felt the weight of their mistakes, disappointments and resentment blocking her path. Del shuddered and skulked down the stairs and back to her own house.

  * * *

  “So, are you up for book club or not?”

  Del hesitated. After a long, fruitless Thursday and tail-chasing Friday, she definitely had to talk herself into keeping her promise to Lola. She’d actually forgotten the event and had just started working on yet another list of people to call in the seemingly Sisyphean task of tracking Mikey’s last months, days and hours. “Well,” she started. “I—”

  “Would you be willing to take me on your bike?”

  Del frowned. “What’s up? You okay?”

  “I’m fine, but—don’t you remember—the thing is at a new place, La Boheme? It’s by the BART station on Twenty-Fourth. It’s a little farther than I want to walk, and there’s no parking.”

  “Why there? What happened? Is the regular place booked?”

  “Didn’t you hear? It closed,” Lola said. “They’ve been struggling for a while, and they finally had to close a few months ago.”

  Del was stunned. “How did I not realize that?”

  “I don’t think you can tell that it’s closed when you’re driving by, and you haven’t had time to do anything but work.” Lola cleared her throat. “Anyway, could I get a ride?”

  “You bet. I’ve been meaning to take you on the new bike since I got it.”

  Minutes later Del was handing Lola her helmet and blinking at the feeling of déjà vu that came over her. “Remember the first time I took you to book club?”

  Lola nodded and climbed on behind Del. “It seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

  Del nodded and started up the bike. When she’d traded in her old Honda Rebel for this larger Suzuki Boulevard, she’d told herself it was so she could take Lola on rides. She’d thought she meant it too, but her actions said otherwise. I got the bike because I wanted it, she told herself as they rode along 18th Street and down Church Street to 24th Street in the Friday evening traffic. She wondered for the hundredth time what it was Lola really saw in her. She found a narrow spot not far from the green awnings that marked their destination and looked around at the strolling, chatting, laughing mix of Mission District residents. The peeper could be anywhere on this block, in this neighborhood, looking out of his living room window at the passersby. He could be driving that green Ford or that black Toyota. Del pushed away the thought and squeezed into a gap between parked cars. As they started toward the coffee shop, Del again wished she could start over with Lola.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have taken you for a ride before this. I let it slip away from me. Like the book group, and the house, and everything. I wasn’t paying attention to the right things and now I feel like it’s all too late.”

  Lola frowned at her. “Are you really so ready to give up on us? You were talking like this the other morning, and I’ve been thinking about that. I have regrets too, you know. I think we’ve been imperfect, but I think that’s just how people are.”

  “There you go,” Del said as lightly as she could. “Letting me off the hook again.”

  Lola shook her head. “That’s too simple. I’m just saying, don’t wallow in guilt. It’s just as bad as self-pity, don’t you think? If you don’t like what you’ve done so far, do it differently from now on. If you say it’s just too late, then you don’t have to do anything to make it better. It’s a cop-out. Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give up on us.”

  “I keep forgetting,” Del said with a smile. “You really are a fighter, aren’t you?”

  Lola made a face. “What do you mean?”

  “Ever since I met you, you’ve been moving yourself forward, away from bad stuff. You’ve faced all this crap—you survived Beckett. You survived James. You became a writer. You built a new life in a new city. When I found out you were with Sterling, I was terrified. I thought she’d kill you. But you even got over a serial killer. I don’t know many people who could’ve done that.”

  Lola shrugged. “It wasn’t me. I think she wanted to die. She kept saying she was tired, she wanted to be saved. I think she let me stop her.”

  Del trailed after Lola, wondering if she realized how blasé she sounded. How close had Lola come to being just another of Sterling’s victim’s? Sterling had chosen women she considered too damaged or deficient to be worthy of living. The murderer had, according to her defense attorney, considered herself some kind of hero rescuing the victims from the world.

  Lola looked small and defenseless, strolling along 24th Street in her usual jeans and sweater, her long, thin neck a stalk and her shorn head a delicate flower. One of Sterling’s murder victims, young Paula Wilson, belonged to a book club. Her apartment was overstuffed with novels and textbooks and volumes of poetry. Opal Hernandez, one of the other women Sterling killed, was a web developer and wrote several articles about women in technology and was at the time of her death collaborating with another techie on a book about working as a woman in her male-dominated profession. Sterling followed them, monitored them, judged them and found them guilty of the same thing she’d found Lola guilty of, the capital crime of—what?

  “You ever think about the lives you saved?” Too late, Del realized she’d missed whatever Lola had been saying and had interrupted her.

  “What do you mean?�
�

  “You stopped Sterling. You survived her. You kept her from killing any other women. Do you think about why you were able to stop her, what it means?”

  Lola slowed to a stop and tipped her head to the side. “I survived because I did, that’s all. It’s like when it rains and the worms scatter on the sidewalk, a lot of them die but some make it. There’s no triumph of good over evil. I wanted to live, she didn’t. No moral imperatives, no divine intervention. I’m just one of the worms that didn’t die.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Del averred. “You outsmarted her. You were the only one who could. Don’t ignore that.”

  Lola glanced at her watch and resumed walking. “I did not outsmart her. I understood her. It creeps me out, actually. She and I were more alike than different.”

  “You’re nothing like her,” Del insisted. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

  “But so was she, in her own twisted way.” Lola smiled at Del’s boggled expression. “I’m not saying she was right to do what she did. Obviously. But she thought she was helping them. Us. She thought she was saving women who needed it.”

  “You sound like you sympathize with her.”

  “I know it seems strange, but I do.”

  They walked in silence while Del tried to figure out how to respond to this. Her first impulse was to argue with Lola, but that never seemed to do any good. Lola would give in to avoid conflict, but she’d go ahead and keep thinking what she was thinking and doing what she was doing.

  “Entrenched.” Del shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Janet said I was entrenched. That the only way to get me to listen was, you know—”

  “To kidnap you? To drug you and tie you up in that trailer and starve you half to death?”

  There was another silence. As they neared the café, Lola put a hand on Del’s arm to stop her. “Funny, I’m able to see things from Sterling’s point of view but not Janet’s. Pretty crazy, huh?”

  “Do you think I’m entrenched?”

  “Aren’t we all?” Lola laughed quietly. “When we believe a thing, no matter whether it’s right or not, we hold on to it as hard as we can. Even if it hurts us, we can’t let go of something we think without feeling like we’ll lose part of ourselves.”

  Del shrugged off Lola’s hand. “That’s a horrible thought. Like we’re stuck being who we are forever. Like we can’t grow.”

  “I think we can try. That’s all we can do.”

  “Hey, you’re here,” called out a voice ahead of them.

  Del and Lola grinned in response to Tess and Lin, who stood together near the café’s entrance and pulled them both in for a long group hug. Their warmth and energy were infectious, and Del’s spirits were lifted immediately.

  “How’s my Del?” Lin nestled into Del’s side.

  Del smiled down and squeezed Lin’s tiny frame. “Glad to see you happy.”

  Tess grinned at Del, her dark eyes shining, her curls wild. “Remember when you weren’t sure I was good enough for her?”

  “I’m still trying to decide on that one.”

  The four stayed interlocked, smiling and catching up for a few minutes. Del had introduced Lin and Tess several years before and was delighted anew every time she saw how good they were for each other. Shy, bookish Lin had come out of her shell, while Tess’s cool, polished demeanor had warmed and softened. The safety and security and affection they offered one another seemed to bring out the best in them both. Theirs was, Del realized with a mixture of gladness and pain, the only perfect relationship she’d ever witnessed.

  Rachel and Lee arrived then and expanded the circle. Since they were now blocking the front door to the café, they moved inside and broke apart to start claiming seats.

  Lola and Lin chatted for a few minutes before the meeting while Tess greeted the other arrivals, and Del thought about her conversation with Lola. They saw things very differently, and she wanted to think about what Lola had said. Was she missing something, or had Lola become a lot deeper? Maybe, she thought, I’m just paying more attention. Maybe I’ve been missing a lot about who she really is, just like I missed a lot about who Janet really is.

  Thoughts about Lola and their conversation carried her along for the first half of the meeting, but her spirits dropped along with her energy, and she fought to focus on the group’s lively discussion. The book, a ghost story and mystery, had apparently become a favorite of Lola’s, and Del resolved to read it.

  “This book is crap,” asserted Andrea, Del’s least favorite acquaintance. “Whoever picked this, you don’t get to pick again. The Thirteenth Tale should be burned. I have better things to do on a Friday night than sit around yapping about this piece of crap.”

  Del watched Lola and Lin exchange glances. Tess, ever the graceful facilitator, tried to direct Andrea toward a productive discussion.

  “What specific issue do you have with it? What would you have liked, how could the author have made it better?”

  They all listened to Andrea rant until Tess smoothly asked for other input. Every time someone tried to say something, though, Andrea interrupted. She became increasingly sharp-tongued, finally calling Rachel a “stupid bimbo” and scowling. Del leaned forward, trying to decide whether to step in. Rachel shook her head slightly, and Del sat back. She made eye contact with Lee, whose placid face belied the tension in her firefighter’s body. Glamorous Rachel, ever composed, leaned only a degree or two closer to her physically imposing girlfriend.

  At this point, Tess called for a short break and took Andrea aside. The rest of the group gathered around the coffee and pretended not to watch Tess and Andrea.

  “Thanks,” Rachel said, smiling at Del and clutching Lee’s hand. “I don’t take it personally.”

  Del eyed Lee. “I wasn’t sure—”

  “We talked about it before.” Lee grimaced at Del. “Andrea’s been getting quietly nastier over the last few months, especially to Rachel, and we decided to let Tess handle it. No,” she added, as if she’d been asked, “I don’t like anybody attacking my girlfriend. But it’s up to her how we handle it.”

  Del nodded and once again admired Lee’s self-control. She’d have struggled to sit back and let someone mistreat Lola without doing anything about it.

  “I’m so sorry.” Lin rubbed Rachel’s arm. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. She’s always been opinionated, but she’s usually not out of control like that.”

  Lola frowned at Lin. “Will Tess kick her out?”

  “Ah.” Lin eyed Tess with naked curiosity. “I think—she just did. Whether it’s for tonight or forever, I don’t know. But we won’t let that kind of thing happen again, I promise.”

  Rachel offered a forced laugh that drew a scowl from Lee.

  “I’ve been called worse, you guys. It’s no biggie. I just don’t get why she hated the book so much. I loved it!”

  “Me too!” Lola blushed when everyone looked at her. “It kept me wondering about so many things, and I just loved her use of imagery.”

  Del smiled at Lola’s enthusiasm.

  “Right?” Lin grinned. “It was like a gallery of paintings used to tell a story. And the whole meta-fiction thing was really interesting.”

  “Storyteller characters,” Rachel put in, “I always feel like the author is playing with archetypes, don’t you?”

  They chatted about the book around the table for a few minutes before noticing Tess’s arrival at their little circle.

  “Well,” she muttered with a grin. “I guess this is the book club that just won’t die, huh? I leave you alone for five seconds and you guys have the whole meeting without me!”

  “You okay?” Lin reached for her hand. “That couldn’t have been fun.”

  “Listen,” Tess said, leaning toward Lin. “Andi’s going through a rough time right now, she didn’t mean to take it out on everyone. She’s gonna skip the next few meetings. I’ll keep in touch with her, see about maybe
reintroducing her later.”

  “Does she need help? Is she okay?”

  Lola stared at Rachel in naked surprise, and Del again had to smile. Andrea was often abrasive with everyone, but she consistently seemed to be particularly rough on Rachel. After they’d said their goodbyes to the others and ambled toward the waiting bike, Del and Lola talked about it.

  “Was she being sarcastic? Or is she really so generous and compassionate? She seemed sincere.”

  “I think she was.”

  “I assumed she was selfish,” Lola said. “She’s pretty and glamorous—designer clothes, perfect makeup, high heels all the time—so I figured she was shallow.”

  “Well—”

  “I saw Janet the same way. I guess I was jealous of Janet too. Maybe I still am.”

  “I gave you every reason to be.” Del shoved her hands in her pockets.

  “You still love her,” Lola said, as though it were a foregone conclusion. “That’s not a thing you chose, it’s just how it is.”

  “But I don’t love her anymore. Honestly.”

  Lola shrugged.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “I’m not sure you know how you feel.” She turned quickly to take in Del’s reaction, and Del stifled an impulse to defend herself. She inclined her head to indicate Lola should go on.

  “But I don’t think that’s unusual. I think most of us have a hard time knowing how we really feel until we do something and can’t figure out why. Then we have to choose to take a hard look at ourselves.”

  “You’ve gotten pretty philosophical all of a sudden.” Del eyed Lola. “Any reason?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Lola slowed the way she always did when thinking hard. “I take things really personally sometimes, so it helps to think no one’s singling me out—we’re all the same inside.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. And no.” Lola laughed. “Does that make any sense?”

  “Actually, yeah, I guess it does.”

  Moments later they were on the Boulevard and zipping home. Del tried to steel herself against noticing, but she couldn’t ignore the feel of Lola’s arms wrapped around her middle, the warmth that spread from where Lola was snug against her back. She swallowed hard, knowing that if she let herself cry the tears would cloud her vision. She missed physical contact with Lola more than she wanted to acknowledge, but she’d blown it. She drove as slowly as she dared, wanting to extend the ride. She wished she’d thought to ask if Lola wanted to take a detour to the headlands so they could take in the view of the city. Next time, she vowed to herself.