She had to stand again to rinse out her mouth and she did feel almost human. Her hair was disgusting, matted and oily. It would only take five minutes to shower. She could stand up for that long.
She lasted only two minutes, just long enough to strip, adjust the water and lather up her hair. Then her arms wouldn't cooperate, her legs trembled, and although she didn't want to, she was suddenly sitting in the tub, water running over her, and with no way to get up and out. Feebly she tried to rinse her hair, but a flutter of panic built in her. Will I drown if I pass out, she wondered.
"Oh God, Cat, help," she murmured, and the shower curtain was pulled back abruptly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Cat said harshly. "Get out of there!"
"I can't," Jessica whimpered and Cat's angry expression faded, but only a little.
"I have never seen such a fool," Cat muttered and she bent to lift Jessica to her feet. She got in the shower with Jessica, the spray plastering her cotton nightgown to her body.
"I am a fool, Cat, an utter fool," Jessica said forlornly, then she spluttered as water and shampoo ran over her face.
Cat helped her get the shampoo rinsed out and then sat her down on the John to be toweled off. Jessica couldn't stop a trail of weak tears from running down her cheeks.
"Oh merde, stop crying," Cat ordered, but Jessica only sniffed and shook harder.
After drying her off, Cat stripped and then dried herself. She brought a clean T-shirt for Jessica. "Come on, into bed with you."
"I just wanted to be clean. I felt so awful." Jessica leaned on Cat's naked body. Until now, she had perceived Cat as soft and gentle. Now Cat felt tough, strong enough for her to lean on.
"I know, just lie down," Cat said, much more gently. "You scared me again, and I don't like it No more scaring me, that's an order."
"I promise," Jessica said and then she blew her nose loudly and faded back onto the pillows Cat had plumped up.
"Your vacation was ruined," Jessica said after a while.
"So was yours," Cat responded, stretching. She got dressed, shrugging into a pair of jeans and a sweater. The soft, clinging sweater made Jessica want to stroke Cat as if she really were a cat — all soft and fluffy. But Cat wasn't soft and fluffy anymore. She was an Amazon, Jessica decided. A very short Amazon.
"I'm sorry," Jessica murmured. A faint daze was taking over her, a glow of exhausted happiness. Cat cared about her.
"It's not your fault. Look, I'm going for a walk to get some energy back. If you get out of that bed, so help me I'll spank you."
After Cat left she watched the news. The upcoming elections and whether balance in the House of Representatives would shift was the top story along with speculation about who would succeed John Paul I.
She squeezed her hand, remembering how it had felt when Cat held it. She decided she had two choices. One: move and get Cat out of her mind and heart. Two: tell Cat how she felt, then move and get Cat out of her mind and heart. It was a depressing choice, all the more because she really didn't want to move again. But she knew she'd never get over Cat if she saw her every day.
And why would an Amazon like Cat want to even be neighbors with a silly weakling like you, Herself demanded. Measles, indeed. She was helpless to stop Herself from asking all sorts of unpleasant questions.
What had happened to the woman who never let her heart (or other influential parts of the body) rule her head? When had she turned into such a puddle of jello, Herself wanted to know.
When had she last had sex? When would hotels stop bolting lamps to the tables? She giggled at Herself. Obviously, Cat had driven her insane with lust and she wasn't to be held accountable for the fact that her mind had stopped working. I get to be crazy, she decided.
She felt a lot better. I'll just tell her I'm nuts, that I'm in love with her and it's all her fault.
She practiced. "I'm madly in love with you, I want to make love to you, I'm crazy about you and I'm deranged and it's your fault." It sounded so good she went to sleep, rehearsing her little speech, over and over.
TEN
Truth and Consequences
The flight home was horrible. Jessica's entire body ached. Even Cat's sweetness and gentleness didn't make her feel better. She tried not to complain or cry, but somewhere near Denver she couldn't stop a trickle of tears.
Cat put her arm around Jessica and wiped her face. "We'll be there soon," she whispered over and over and Jessica turned her face to Cat's softness and tried to control her tears.
"You're an Amazon," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping. It was the highest compliment she could think of at the moment. Her lips were operating independently and as she dropped into sleep she was sure Cat hadn't heard her over the drone of the plane. She wasn't even sure she had spoken aloud.
It was days before she was back on her feet. Cat continually checked on her, brought her food, insisted on taking her out for some light exercise. She had to cancel two speaking engagements and set back her final report to the software company by a month. She had a lot of time on her hands and nothing to do but study the election races.
About a week after they returned Cat came home from work with pictures from the trip.
"I haven't even looked at them," she said.
"These are really nice," Jessica said from the sofa. Cat brought her a glass of cold water and went back into the kitchen. Slowly Jessica went through the photos, remembering the fun they'd had together — until she had gotten sick. She remembered how close she had been to telling Cat everything.
She began a new stack. The top picture was of herself. It was the first on the roll, and Cat must have been fiddling with her camera and snapped it not intending to keep it. At any rate, Jessica hadn't been ready for the picture — her expression was far too revealing.
She was leaning against a wall, evidently assured that Cat wasn't looking at her. She cringed as she studied the photo, not believing she could have such a dopey look of adoration on her face. Anyone who saw this picture would know she was mooning after the person she was looking at. If Cat saw it, she would know Jessica was looking at her.
Jessica stuffed the picture under the sofa cushion just as Cat came back into the room. She desperately hoped there weren't any more candid shots of her in the rest of the prints.
Life fell into a regular pattern. Cat fixed Jessica dinner every night, convinced she would starve otherwise. Jessica went on with her research as soon as she could concentrate, although Cat scolded her for not resting enough. She convinced Cat that her word processor wasn't making her tired, it was keeping her interested by playing games with her. Cat did not like computers.
"I'm getting better," Jessica protested one evening. "You shouldn't be fussing like this. You look awfully tired."
"Thanks, I feel like a million bucks," Cat said brusquely, then she smiled, but it faded into a sigh. "Sorry. Guess I am tired."
"Cat, I really do appreciate your being here," Jessica began. She wanted to be strong again, not such a noodle of need and weakness before she told Cat her feelings. "But you aren't responsible for me, really. I don't want you to get sick." She smiled broadly. "I don't think I can be such a good nurse."
"You're an easy patient. Maybe I should have been a nurse and not a businesswoman."
"How are things at the hotel?" Jessica asked to change the subject.
Cat sank down into the cushions and took a long drink from her soda and then sighed. "Effective last Monday I have a new boss. Mark resigned while I was gone and he left almost immediately for another job. The new guy is a crony of someone from Corporate."
"So what's he like?" And why didn't you tell me sooner, Jessica wanted to ask. She felt a little hurt, but she supposed Cat hadn't wanted to worry her. Besides, what's it to you, Herself commented.
"He's pure ice. I can't decide if I don't like him because I was never given an opportunity to apply for his job, or if he's just unlikable. I think I could do his job, but he does have a degree in marketing, and tha
t precious MBA."
"Ever thought of getting an MBA yourself?"
"All the time. I can't go any further without it. But I'm not convinced I want to go further. I keep thinking about a baby."
"Choices, choices." Jessica sighed. "Why are women's lives so filled with choices? Directions that seem irreconcilable. You can have one, but not the other."
"You said you had a choice to make, remember, a couple of months ago. Do you mind my asking what you decided?"
Jessica captured Cat's gaze and held it. "You can always ask me anything," she said, staring into the gleaming brown eyes. "I know what I want to do but I'm not ready to begin. Part of the solution is returning to my ideals." Cat blinked and the electric contact between them lessened, but didn't completely dissolve. Jessica could still sense the beat of Cat's heart, the rate of her breathing. "I was a feminist — you know, that dirty word — when I was in college. When I graduated and began moving around to take temporary consulting assignments I lost track of my friends and who I really was. I guess I kind of sealed myself up."
"It's a big transition from college to working. I know what you mean," Cat said. She leaned back, completely relaxed.
Jessica went on. "It's been ten years. And ever since I moved here, I don't know why, maybe it's because this place has so much light in it, anyway, I've really seen myself in a different way. I want to be freer."
"You strike me as pretty free," Cat said, wiggling her toes.
"Well, have you ever heard of the Johari Window?"
"No — maybe. It's a communication theory, right?" Cat ventured, her head to one side.
"Right." Jessica wanted to give her a kiss for a reward. "The window has four parts, remember? Take me, for example. There's what you know about me that I don't know."
"That would be like if you had spinach stuck to your front teeth, right?"
"That's it. There's what you and I both know, like the fact that my eyes are blue. There's what neither of us knows. My instructor called those the great mysteries. Her example was when she and her husband were in a car accident and she ripped the door off the car to get him out. Neither of them knew she was capable of doing that."
"The great mysteries. It sounds like there's so much to be discovered in each person." Cat stretched and then curled up in the corner of the sofa.
Dragging her gaze from Cat's expressive face, Jessica went on. "She characterized the mysteries as probably the most joyous area to explore. The last area is what I know about myself that you don't know. Those are the secrets." She chose her next words carefully. "I've never forgotten what she said. That the larger the area of secrets is, the less free you are. You become circumscribed by the fear of someone discovering your secrets. For a lot of women, it's fear that their feminism, their fundamental belief that women are free, equal and just maybe superior in many ways to men, will be discovered and men will make reprisals."
"I think I see what you mean. But if you have no secrets —"
"Then you are completely free. And you have to take the consequences of having no secrets."
"Like admitting to someone you'd had a mental breakdown," Cat suggested. "People will treat you differently and you have to be strong enough to handle that."
"I think I'm strong enough. So I'm just waiting until the right time to start getting rid of my secrets," Jessica said. She closed her eyes and feigned a nonchalance she certainly didn't feel. "So I've changed my speeches a little, my outlook a little. I'm trying to be less worried about how I might lose an assignment and more concerned with motivating women to get rid of their secrets. We'll all be freer."
Cat sat up and turned on her side to face Jessica. "You've motivated me," she said with a flash of a brilliant grateful smile that dazzled Jessica. "I'll tell you my current secret, it's got me kind of worried and I just thought I'd keep it to myself. I glossed over my new boss because I didn't know quite how to say it. Maybe it's my imagination, but he's been complimenting me a lot, not just on my department or my numbers, but me."
"Uh-oh."
"Yeah, uh-oh. I have an extremely firm policy about mixing business and pleasure. I did it once and got burned so bad I'll never do it again. But that's beside the point anyway. I'm not attracted to him," Cat said firmly. "And he's married. But he keeps saying things like how much he likes the suit I'm wearing, what good taste I have, all in a very icy but direct way."
"Icy doesn't fit with a come on," Jessica said.
"I mean there's no feeling in it. He's cold when he says it, not flirtatious. But for example this morning, he said, and this is a direct quote, I've never had the pleasure of working with a woman so admirable in every way. Flat out, no inflections, no significant eye contact."
"How does he treat other people?"
"I guess the same way, I don't know. He makes me uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say to that?"
Jessica thought about it. "That's a tough question. If it's the way he treats everybody, you can probably relax. But if you think he's singling you out, I'd be careful about any extracurricular activities, including going to lunch or dinner."
"Am I wrong to be so suspicious?"
"No, not at all!" Jessica leaned over to pat Cat's arm and she gave it a comforting squeeze. "Call it woman's intuition or gut instinct, but something in you is saying uh-oh. Your instincts are right most of the time."
"I feel better," Cat said. "I feel better just having talked about it." She took Jessica's hand and held it.
Jessica felt a shiver run over her shoulders and little twinges of desire swirled over her body and settled excruciatingly in her nipples.
Cat looked at her in concern. "Are you cold? Do you feel a chill?"
"No, no, really. Just someone walking over my grave," Jessica said.
Cat smiled. "Considering how sick you were, I'm not so sure that's a wise expression to use."
A silence fell between them and Cat let go of Jessica's hand. Maybe I'll never wash it again, Jessica told Herself. Herself told her not to be silly.
"I want to be silly," she said.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Jessica said. "I was just thinking out loud." Whoops! She's turned your whole life upside down and around; you don't even know what you're saying anymore, Herself said. What a wonderful and frightening thing, to be remade like this, she thought. I feel young and foolish, and she makes me feel vibrant and wise.
Excuse me, but I'm going to throw up, Herself announced.
"Hey, where'd you go?"
"Sorry," Jessica mumbled.
"You really are one to go off. They must be very deep thoughts."
"Where no man has gone before," Jessica said and then laughed.
"Oh, that reminds me Star Trek is on," Cat said. She grabbed Jessica's remote and turned on the TV, switching channels. "Ah, this is a good one, 'Balance of Terror.' "
They watched in companionable silence, Cat tucking Jessica up again. She had never had time to watch much TV and somehow she had missed out on Star Trek. She'd see it once or twice, but had never been a fan.
"We are much alike, you and I. In another reality I might have called you friend," Cat quoted softly along with the Romulan commander before he blew up his ship. "Isn't that a wonderful idea?"
Jessica was touched a little, too, but embarrassed to show it. It was just a TV show, after all. "Male bonding," she observed quietly.
"What do you expect for 'sixty-eight? I'm the first to admit there are few meaningful women characters in Star Trek. But the idea that different races and beings could live side by side in peace was rather novel at the time. It still is."
"You got that right. Tolerance and acceptance." Jessica remembered using those words in New York. Cat seemed to remember too because she nodded. There was a long silence. "Hey," she finally said. "I'm not the only one who gets lost in thought around here it seems."
"Sorry. What do you want for dinner?"
"I'm not really hungry."
"Tough," Cat said briskly. "You ha
ve to eat. What'U it be?"
"How about some of your stew from yesterday and a roll?"
"And a glass of wine?"
"Sure."
Cat went into the kitchen. Jessica leaned back and shut her eyes, soaking in the complete domesticity of the situation. From the time Cat got home from work until she thought Jessica should go to bed, she stayed at Jessica's. She looked in on her way to work, usually bringing her some breakfast. Jessica knew she didn't need cosseting anymore, but she didn't want Cat to stop.
Little things, like Cat holding her hand, made her wonder if Cat was attracted to her and not aware of it. She wanted to take a chance and let Cat's feelings grow. And when the time was right, please make it soon, she'd tell Cat how she felt and hope she didn't scare Cat away with the intensity of her love. She wanted to propose a marriage to Cat, a partnership meant for eternity.
"You want butter on your roll?" Cat called.
"Yes, sure, and some Parmesan cheese."
"Okey dokey. Is there anything else on TV?"
"I'll check." While she'd been daydreaming, Charlie's Angels had come on. Neither she nor Cat could stand to watch the jiggling. "There's absolutely nothing. Some stupid movie of the week. Why don't we listen to some music?"
"You mean like Bach or something?"
"You got something against Bach?"
"Not really. I'm actually getting to like him," Cat admitted from the kitchen. "You seem addicted."
"Can't help it. Consider it a vice."
"Oh, so another dark secret is revealed. I thought your only vice was fine wine, ma'am,'* Cat said as she carried in a tray.
"I lied." Jessica dug into her stew. "This is even better than yesterday," she said genuinely.
"Thanks. Don't change the subject. So you lied about vices."
"And are you vice free, ma'am?" Jessica asked.
"Nope. Don't say I am, neither."
"So what are your vices?"
Cat giggled and took a deep breath. "Chocolate, Italian food, lingerie, sleeping late, trashy romance novels, doing nothing for long periods of time, long lunches, bad science fiction movies and used record stores. And I like to watch The Incredible Hulk. That's all I can think of right now."
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