by Julie Blair
“Travis,” Penni hollered across the playground, “go find Aunt Jamie, okay? Tell her I want to talk to her.” Penni turned to her. “If I had, you wouldn’t have talked to her. Carla, please. Her personal life is rocky. You said your marriage was complicated. You don’t impress me as the type to cheat, so I assume you’re either separated or about to be.”
Carla nodded and crossed her arms, not at all sure she wanted to hear this.
“Then you understand how hard it is to come to terms with a longtime relationship that’s not working. She’s fighting to save her business. She’s overwhelmed and afraid. Please don’t walk out on her.”
“I’ll do my best as her office manager. If she doesn’t fire me,” she added bitterly. “That’s all I can do.” Carla walked away, dabbing at her eyes as she took the path toward the entrance, the future she’d wanted now impossible. The sun was hot on her skin but she felt cold inside.
“Don’t give up on her,” Penni called after her.
*
Jamie gripped her car keys inside her pocket as she trailed behind Travis. She’d said good-bye to Lori. She needed to be as far away from here, from Carla, as possible.
“I found her, Mom.”
“Thanks, Trav.” Penni kissed his head and smoothed an errant curl of hair.
“Is it time for cake yet?”
“Just about. Go find your other mom and tell her I’ll be right there.”
“I’m going to take off.” Jamie pulled her keys from her pocket.
“Did you talk to Carla?”
“Why?”
“I know she’s the girl from Atlanta.”
Jamie was silent. She didn’t want to talk about this, even with Penni. Especially not with Penni.
“Jamie, the woman who affected you more than any other suddenly shows up in your life again. You can’t ignore this. I know you’re overwhelmed and struggling, but—”
“Don’t.” Jamie held up her hands as if she could repel whatever Penni was about to say. “What happened twenty years ago is over. She has a husband and I have a partner, and she’s my employee.” Was that last part still true? Her mind reeled.
“Maybe she has a husband like you have a partner, and we both know what I’m talking about. Damn it, Jamie, you deserve to be happy. Don’t suffer out of some misplaced sense of responsibility.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Penni.” Jamie stormed off, plowing through a group of older men in black Harley Davidson T-shirts, banging her knee against a motorcycle helmet. She was fed up with Penni’s campaign against Sheryl. Where the hell was the entrance? A real friend would support her relationship, not undermine it. Damn it. How’d she end up back at the pool? Backtracking, she found a sign that read Exit and ran down the path.
And Carla…Her breath caught in her throat. She remembers me. That night mattered. Jamie’s thoughts took off in all directions as she tried to amend twenty years’ worth of assumptions.
She bolted across the parking lot to her car. Biology. Carla leaving hadn’t been about feelings. A laugh bubbled up, but she swallowed it. The resentment, the neat little box called “straight girl’s experiment,” now had a huge hole blown through it. Did knowing the truth make it easier?
The leather seat was hot under her legs as she jammed the key in the ignition. Turning the air conditioning on full blast, she yanked the seat belt across her chest. She cranked up the volume on Melissa, the only rebellious act she could think to commit. Backing out of the space, she cursed the driver who’d parked inches from her.
“I never forgot it.” The words bounced in her head and dropped to her heart with a thud. She squeezed the steering wheel. She’d kept that note. How silly was that?
At the exit to Highway 9, the Harley in front of her turned right and she looked in that direction. In an hour she could be in Santa Cruz. The beach. Her toes scrunched inside her Nikes. She looked to the left. In fifteen minutes she could be home. She could take care of that squeaky door and have dinner ready for Sheryl. She rolled her shoulders and followed the Harley. She’d go over to the wharf and surprise Sheryl with fresh crab for dinner.
The forest engulfed her, and memories of that weekend collected around her, stray images and feelings forming a collage. The Harley zipped around a car going ten miles under the speed limit. Usually a patient driver, she swore as the idiot passed another turnout. She rolled her shoulders again, trying to relieve the pain racing up the back of her neck. People didn’t fall in love in one night. You don’t go back for second chances. Tears stung her eyes.
She swerved into a turnout. That damn weekend. So what if she still remembered everything about it? She’d called it her last hurrah, not thinking it really would be. It had become a dividing line between hope that she could still pursue her dreams and the reality of the responsibilities she’d agreed to. Many choices had disappeared that weekend. She hadn’t known many more would disappear with the new clinic and her father’s death. Lowering the window, she sucked in the scent of warm soil and redwoods and turned down the music.
A sporty white convertible sped by. She loved sports cars. She’d had one once—a 280 ZX the blue of her shirt, T-tops, racing mags. She’d bought it a few months after starting in her dad’s practice. He’d criticized the purchase as frivolous. She’d needed to reward herself with something fun to combat the growing fear that she’d made a mistake by becoming a chiropractor. Of course she hadn’t, but back then she’d chafed at finding herself locked into his expectations. Now she drove a SUV, a solid, responsible car he’d approve of. She tried to think of a single frivolous thing she’d done lately as she pulled back onto the road.
Chapter Fifteen
Opening the refrigerator, Carla realized she should have stopped at the store. Sure she’d be spending the evening with Jamie, she hadn’t planned anything for dinner. Tears filled her eyes again—for today, for the past, for the future she wouldn’t have. Tears for the lack of anything she needed to make lasagna. It was comfort food, and she could justify drinking wine, maybe a lot of it, while she cooked. She dialed Mike’s number.
“Could you stop at the store on your way home?” She gave him the list of things she needed. Little pebbles in her shoes infuriated her, and she kicked them off as she sloshed wine into a glass. She marched to the patio and sat at the table, lost in thoughts about the vagaries of fate and timing. When she heard Mike come in she brushed away tears.
Mike settled on the chair next to hers, rubbing a bottle of beer across his forehead. “Jeez, it’s hot.” He continued with a description of his dismal round of golf until he seemed to realize she wasn’t paying attention.
“Honey? What’s wrong? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Is it about the move?”
Carla’s throat tightened and she shook her head.
“Then what?”
“Oh, Mike, I’ve made such a mess of everything.”
“We’ll get through—”
“No. Work, Jamie.” The heartbreak of the lost opportunity twenty years ago and the lost opportunity today welled up in her. When Mike said, “Tell me,” she decided it was time.
“I met Jamie once before,” she said, praying he’d understand.
When she’d finished the story, leaving nothing out but personal details, Mike was silent, his brow creased. “That’s a lot to digest,” he finally said.
“I should have told you.” Carla reached for his hand. “Are you upset with me?”
“Of course not.” He kissed the back of her hand.
“I never meant to cheat on you.” Carla rubbed her thumb over his wedding band. “It just sort of happened.”
“I understand.” He gave a wry smile. “I had the same shock when I realized I was attracted to the guy I worked with on that project last year. It’s just…you knew before we got married that you were attracted to women, that you were gay. Twenty years is a long time to be in the wrong relationship.”
“It wasn’t the wrong relationship. You’ve been my b
est friend since kindergarten and I’ve always loved you.” The gangly boy had grown into a handsome man, and just as kind. “I wouldn’t trade a minute of what we’ve had. It’s just…where do I go from here?”
“Can you talk to Dr.—to Jamie about it?”
Carla laughed harshly. “I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t fire me for coming on to her.”
“Maybe it would be best if you—”
“I can’t walk out on her again. I can help her, and as hard as it is to be around her—”
“It’s harder not to. I remember.” Mike scooted his chair closer and put his arm around her. “I wanted that project to be over so I wouldn’t have to be around him, but then I’d find a reason to go to his office to talk about anything.”
“What am I going to do?” Carla sobbed into his shirt. It was sweaty but she didn’t care.
“Shh. You’re going to make lasagna, we’re going to have dinner by candlelight, and tomorrow we’re going to get you on Match.com.”
Carla’s sobs turned to laughter and then hiccups. No one would ever understand her the way Mike did. Why couldn’t they both be straight?
An hour later she tucked two pans of lasagna into the oven. It was more than she could eat in a week, but she could take some to work. If she had a job.
“Call Lissa.” Mike handed her the phone. “Talking to her always makes you feel better. Then you can take a bath while the lasagna cooks.”
Waiting for Lissa to answer, she noticed the business card from the attorney she’d met at the bar. She picked it up and rubbed her fingers over the heavy card stock. If she wanted a future other than the emptiness of this house she’d have to tuck her sorrow in her apron, as her mother often said, and go on with life.
The smells of tomato sauce and garlic comforted her as she listened to Lissa complain about Steph leaving dirty clothes all over the bedroom and hair in the bathroom sink. They didn’t know how lucky they were to have those problems.
Chapter Sixteen
Lost in thought, Jamie realized she was at the junction of Highway 1 in Santa Cruz. She took River Street to Laurel and wound her way with all the tourists toward the wharf. At the entrance she veered right instead. It was too pretty of a day not to cruise up West Cliff Drive. She’d still make it back with dinner. Crawling along in the line of cars, windows down, the ocean a carpet of gray-blue in front of her, she let the sound and smell calm her.
At the last parking area she lucked out and pulled into a spot vacated by an old VW van covered in bumper stickers. Only in Santa Cruz. Surfers off Lighthouse Point bobbed in the ocean. Kelp beds swayed in giant surges, left then right. A woman ambled along the asphalt path that ran the length of West Cliff, an exuberant Labrador puppy tugging on the leash. She sat for a long time watching people doing nothing more than having fun. The conversation with Carla replayed itself like a loop in her head. She remembered. It had mattered.
Shoving the car door open she walked to the lighthouse and back and then settled on a bench overlooking the ocean. Her phone signaled another text from Penni. “Sorry. Call me. Love you.” She texted back, “Not forgiven.”
She gazed out at the ocean, mere yards away but not accessible from the steep cliffs clearly marked as hazardous. She had a wild urge to shimmy down one of the foot trails that rule breakers had forged. She checked her watch. She should get the crab and head back.
Standing in line at Stagnaro’s fish counter, she watched the Ferris wheel on the boardwalk adjacent to the wharf. How many times had she made that loop sitting next to her mom? She could spare the time. Tying her laces together, she draped her shoes over her shoulder and stepped onto the beach that fronted the boardwalk. The sand was soft and warm, the breeze cool against her skin. She still had her swimsuit on under her clothes. Maybe she’d go in the water. A football landed at her feet, and instead of handing it back to the guy, she threw it down the beach to his buddy, smiling at his “Nice arm, lady.”
She stepped around a sand castle under construction as two little girls packed sand into turrets. Jamie still had Kodak pictures of castles she and her mom had built. She looked up at the boardwalk, at the rides she’d loved as a kid. What the heck? Sheryl was probably still shopping.
Jamie took advantage of the short line to the Giant Dipper roller coaster, feeling childishly pleased when she got the front car along with a teenaged girl. She raised her arms as they were transported through the dark tunnel and then ratcheted up the steep first climb. The view from the top was as breathtaking as she remembered. Time stopped for that split-second view of the Pacific Ocean spread out to the horizon. Jamie screamed with everyone else as they plummeted down, the girl’s long hair flying around her face. She couldn’t stop smiling as she hurried down the exit ramp, tempted to vault the railing and hurry back in line like she had as a kid.
Jamie dashed over to the Ferris wheel. A kid wearing a wide leather bracelet closed the safety bar across her. She’d wanted to work here the summer after her sophomore year in high school. Her mom was concerned about her driving Highway 17 but willing to let her do it. Her father shut the idea down decisively. She’d worked in his office that summer and every summer after.
She wished her mom were next to her, holding her hand, as they made the slow rise. Her mom’s fear of heights had never stopped her from having fun. Jamie let her eyes wander over the boardwalk, the beach, the wharf. “It’s a lot like life,” her mom would say. “You go up, you go down, but you keep moving.” What words of wisdom would she have about Carla?
She saved her mom’s favorite ride for last—the merry-go-round. Jamie climbed onto one of the big horses on the outside—a white one with blue and yellow adornments. She pulled a brass ring from the metal arm as she passed it and aimed for the picture of the clown face on the wall, remembering how her mom would cheer every time she got it in the clown’s mouth, causing bells to go off. So many fun times.
She checked her watch again. Wasn’t Sheryl the one promoting more separate time? Coming to Santa Cruz was the first spontaneous thing Jamie had done in longer than she could remember, and she suddenly craved that feeling of not knowing what would happen next, of being directed by no agenda other than fun. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she strolled the boardwalk soaking up the sun, the sounds of the rides and people having fun, the smells from the food stands. When she reached the end, she stopped in front of Marianne’s ice cream. She loved ice cream, and usually had several pints of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer. Since starting her diet, Sheryl didn’t want her to bring any home. She ordered a double-scoop butter pecan, her mom’s favorite flavor. Settling on a bench next to a guy drawing in a sketchbook, she watched kids frolic in the gentle waves and let her mind wander back to a time before business problems and responsibilities.
The air was cool and the fog bank was rolling in as she laced her shoes and stepped up onto the wharf. Her gaze kept drifting to the Dream Inn, the boutique hotel that fronted the ocean just beyond the wharf. She sat on a bench and stared at the tall white building with balconies facing the ocean. She’d always wanted to stay there. Why not? She called Sheryl.
“Hey, babe, you’re not gonna believe—”
“Where have you been?”
“I’m in Santa Cruz looking at the Dream Inn. Come over and we’ll spend the night.”
“I can’t. That car you bought me won’t start.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Jamie watched the fishermen lined up along the railing. An older man wearing an A’s cap pulled up his line and checked the bait.
“I was with friends. It was so embarrassing. One of them had to drive me home.”
“You left the car?”
“I called you to come get me, but I guess you had better things to do.”
Jamie rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s why we have Triple A. You call them, they come—”
“I couldn’t find the card. What are you doing in Santa Cruz?”
“I decided to take a drive and ended up her
e. Come join me.”
“I. Don’t. Have. A. Car.”
Jamie walked to the wooden railing. The smell of fish wafted up from a bucket next to the man in the A’s cap. He dropped his line back into the ocean, and Jamie had a wild urge to fling her phone after it.
“Are you with Penni?”
The icy tone made Jamie clench her jaw. “No.”
“How soon will you be home?”
“I already paid for the room,” Jamie lied.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You’re right, I’m not.” Jamie laughed and the tightness in her chest loosened. “It’s purely spontaneous, no good reason, no plan, fun.”
“How am I going to get around tomorrow? I have things to do.”
Shopping. She watched a surfer wobble for balance before toppling from the board.
“Jamie—”
“Gotta go.” Jamie stood for a long time staring down into the churning water. Sea lions congregated near the pilings, their barks echoing under the wharf. They probably wouldn’t have a room.
She flashed her best smile at the cute young woman behind the counter before realizing she was a graying middle-aged woman about to flirt with a woman who couldn’t be a day over twenty. She’d once been bold, cocky even, when it came to flirting. Where had the time gone?
“Ocean view?” the woman asked.
“Um, sure.” Tucking the keycard in her back pocket, Jamie did a double take when a woman about her age with long tan legs and a disarming smile gave her the once-over. Was she cruising her? A slow smile relaxed the tension in Jamie’s face. It was nice to be appreciated.
When Jamie’s stomach growled she considered her dinner options. Passing on the hotel restaurant, she headed back to the wharf. It was cold, and she ducked into one of the tourist stores. She put on the navy-blue hooded sweatshirt with the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk emblem in white across the front, complete with exaggerated curls of waves beneath the words.
