Seneca Falls

by Jesse J. Thoma

  Seneca did as she was told, and soon the soccer team, or the little monsters, as Kate had called them, were cramming into the small room seeking treatment, ice bags, or scissors to cut off ankle tape, or Kate’s ear to complain about a new ailment. In a whirlwind of fifteen minutes, all was quiet again.

  Kate’s athletic trainer kit, as well as the much larger full duffle sized kit, had been pillaged, and Kate quickly restocked each before removing the heat pack from Seneca’s leg and replacing it in the hydrocollator.

  “So,” Kate said, leaning against the back counter and looking intently at Seneca, who was flexing her leg gently, enjoying a few pain-free moments, “how did you like your first day on the job?”

  “My first day on the job? I already have a job, and this isn’t it.”

  “You wash dishes in the alumni house and tutor kids who don’t bother to go to class at the high school who then panic about their upcoming tests. And, this one I don’t get, you’re a security guard at the pond. Do you ever bust anyone for skinning-dipping, making out, fornicating, stealing boats, or any of the other mischief you all get up to at the pond?”

  “No. But I never said I was any good at those jobs,” Seneca said.

  “Well, hopefully, you’ll be proficient at this one. I thought we could consolidate your jobs a little. You would also get to stay near athletics, which you seem drawn to. You’ve been here almost every practice, and I hear it was the same last year. Either you’ve got a girlfriend on the team”—Kate held up her hand to stop any protests—“which I hear isn’t your style, or you just love this game. If the leg screwed up your chance, why not help other injured athletes? And you get to work with me, which is clearly a pretty big plus.”

  Kate was grinning so devilishly Seneca laughed. “You hear quite a lot for someone who just started this job,” Seneca grumbled half-heartedly, not attempting to hide her amusement. She wasn’t usually quick to trust, but Kate Smith didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive, and her eyes were sympathetic and caring. “I’ve got a scholarship,” Seneca said, realizing the one thing that could scrap the whole crazy proposal, “but no work study, so you can’t hire me.”

  “Work study doesn’t pay for shit. That wouldn’t replace the three jobs you’ve already got. I’m not talking about a work-study position. I happen to be in charge of hiring an athletic department lackey, which is a fancy word for a personal slave that I rent out every now and then to other people in the department. It won’t get in the way of your class work and—”

  No. No fucking way. Seneca was out the door faster than she had moved in a while. The heat had limbered up her leg, and her limp was less pronounced as she ran from the field house. Kate was out the door almost as fast after her and grabbed her arm to slow her down. Seneca could feel Kate approaching and knew contact was imminent, but she still cowered at the touch and flinched when she faced Kate, expecting her to be angry. Instead, she found concern and caring and more than a little confusion.

  “Sorry.” Seneca pulled out of Kate’s grasp and saw Kate’s look of surprise. She wished she could get out of the situation. She was checking for an escape route, but there wasn’t anywhere she could easily go. She would disappear if she could. Over and over, her body betrayed her at inopportune times, like the other night dancing with Dylan. “I don’t much like to be touched.”

  “Of course. I apologize,” Kate said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Can we start over? I really do want you for the job.”

  Seneca was sure Kate had no idea what had just happened, but she appreciated Kate’s willingness to let it drop. It wasn’t Kate’s fault that she had used the word “slave.” As they walked back to the field house, Seneca realized she had overreacted. She didn’t mean anything by it, and she has no way of knowing what Shannon did to me.

  “Why are you offering me this job? And how did you know my name? Actually, you seem to know a lot about me. Why?” Seneca refused the offered stool, preferring to stand, feeling too emotionally stirred up to sit down. She had been happy and relatively relaxed earlier, but now her protective shield was once again firmly in place.

  “As to your first question, I have friends in high places, and as to your second, I also have friends in low places.”

  Seneca was trying to decide whether to be offended, or just what Kate meant, when she continued.

  “Your bartender friend Suzy? I’ve known her since we were ten.”

  “So this is some kind of pity offer? Suzy tells you about poor Seneca King who comes into the bar to pick up women, looking like a homeless person most nights, who works three jobs, and you feel sorry for me, so you pull some strings and get me a job where I can be your slave. And I’m supposed to accept with gratitude. Do I have to sleep with you, too?” Seneca was practically shouting, confused, defensive, and hurt. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, and she didn’t want anyone owning her either. She would rather work three jobs than be indebted; debts could be collected in all kinds of unpleasant ways.

  “Oh man,” Kate said, taking off her ball cap and running her fingers through her short hair. “Suzy said this would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be this hard.” She looked at Seneca for a long moment, obviously studying her. It made Seneca uncomfortable, but she didn’t look away. It didn’t seem like a challenge, more of an exploration, or an invitation. “I don’t want to own you. This position already existed. And the only string I pulled was getting to be in charge of the hiring process. I wanted to hire you, and a certain member of the board of directors thought that was a great idea. And just for the record, I already have someone to sleep with. If you’re lonely, the bar opens at six. Which I suspect you already know. What I would like to do, is be a friend. Every butch girl needs an older butch lady looking out for her until she finds a hot femme to take care of her for the rest of her life. I’m available for the job. Someone looked out for me when I was young and lost.”

  Seneca bit back her immediate reaction, which was to scream “fuck you” and storm out of the field house. She wasn’t even entirely sure why that was her gut reaction. “That seems awfully presumptuous on so many levels,” she said. Seneca didn’t bother to reply to the bar comment, since there was no way to deny that part of her life even if she wanted to. Suzy worked the bar every night and had probably told Kate plenty of stories. She went to the bar to find companionship and to feel connection, but on her terms. It was a controlled environment, and if the women she approached didn’t want to play by her rules, she could find someone else. She was in charge, and that was important. Except for last night’s little episode…She shook off the thought and paid attention to Kate.

  “You not into girly girls then?” Kate asked.

  “I never said that,” Seneca said, hearing her somewhat frosty tone melting a little.

  “Ah, well then, you might not know it yet, you’re young, but we run around, all butch and tough, and full of vinegar, but good Lord does it feel good to find your lady and let her be in charge. It’s exhausting trying to prove how macho you are all the time.”

  “And that’s where you come in? To help me out until I find a woman to tame me?” Seneca asked.

  Kate nodded, her smile suggesting she knew just how goofy that sounded.

  “I think that sounds insane.”

  “You want the job or not?” Kate asked.

  Seneca thought about her three part-time jobs, how little sleep they afforded her, and how much she missed the smell of the grass on game day. “Fine, what do I do?”

  Kate looked relieved and smiled a huge, winning smile, her eyes sparkling. “Can you be here tomorrow at four? We’ll go over what you need to do and fill out your paperwork then. I’ll have some polo shirts for you. Do you have any khaki pants?”

  Seneca shook her head, embarrassed again. She worked hard to earn the money she did, but most of it was used to buy books, school supplies, and to save money for the summer when her housing and meals weren’t paid for.

  “No problem. After work tom
orrow, I’m taking you shopping. We’ll get you a few pairs of pants and you’ll be all set.”

  “I can get—”

  Kate interrupted her, holding her hand out, one finger up in a mock warning. “I know you can get them yourself. This isn’t pity, and this isn’t charity. You have to come to work dressed a certain way, which makes it a kind of uniform. I’m going to help you with that. We can take it out of your first couple paychecks if that makes you feel better.”

  Seneca nodded. It would make her feel better, and it was nice of Kate to recognize that. Despite their rocky start, Kate was quite likable. She was looking forward to working with her.

  “I have to get to class,” Seneca said, backing out the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sure will, kid. I’ll be here.”

  Seneca made it through the outer doors before she realized she had been rude. She turned and poked her head back into the small training room. “Kate?”

  “Yeah, kiddo?”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter Four

  Dylan waited impatiently for her Ancient Inventions class to start. She tried not to look out the window where summer was making a last run at relevance. It wasn’t a day to be cooped up inside. She looked at her watch, counting the time between the end of class and when dinner was served in her house. Missing dinner wasn’t a good idea because there weren’t many other options for food on campus.

  If class got out on time, she might have enough time to head down to the pond and read for a while and still make it back for dinner. Maybe Gert was free and they could continue their discussion on how they were going to make it through their last bit of time on campus. She flipped idly through the book she had purchased earlier in the day for class. The subject matter looked interesting, but in reality, she had enrolled simply because a friend of hers had taken the class last semester and promised they got to use the machine shop to re-create one of the ancient inventions at the end of the semester.

  Dylan wasn’t particularly handy, but the idea of being able to tell her mother she had learned how to weld had been enough incentive to sign up. Her mother wouldn’t approve, and she’d probably be downright horrified. Walker women did not weld. It just didn’t happen. They threw dinner parties, knitted, and looked fabulous on the arms of their wealthy and powerful husbands. There wasn’t time for calluses, freedom of expression, or personal growth, except in the form of a bank account. She knew that was probably selling everyone short, but her family legacy was starting to feel stifling. Especially now that she was getting so close to graduation and was faced with figuring out what she wanted to be when she grew up.

  Scandalizing her mother had become a personal project, and Dylan’s rebellions had gotten more and more brazen as she got older. It started by playing baseball with the boys in the yard and had culminated last year in Australia when she had the audacity to date a woman and not really make any progress on defining what world-changing contribution to society she would make after graduation. That was another thing Walker women did not do. They didn’t date. Period. And certainly not women. They were courted and then they married. The only requirements were wealth, status, and of course, male. It was all very eighteenth century.

  When she was feeling particularly cranky, Dylan had only to recall the conversation with her mother, when she accidentally revealed the name of the person she had been seeing, to be instantly cheered. The sheer volume of the shrieking coming from the other end of the phone would have been enough to bring a smile to Dylan’s face, but the multitude of tones, lengths, and expressions of the shrieks her mother emitted had Dylan reaching for a tissue to wipe away tears of laughter. She’d always been into girls, but it really had been worth it to wait and tell her mother when she did.

  Lady Walker had, of course, threatened to pull her out of school, bring her home, and not let her out of her sight until a suitable man could be found for her to marry, but even she knew she didn’t really have much power over her daughter, especially not a world away. Although technically her father controlled the tuition payments being made to Sophia each semester, the money actually belonged to Dylan, left to her by her grandparents years before she was even born.

  Even if that weren’t the case, Dylan highly doubted her father would go along with her mother’s threats. He had never really understood her, as he spent much of his time out of the house and worked hard at providing the kind of life to which his wife had grown accustomed. Perhaps it was misunderstanding, or maybe even a desire to make up for what he hadn’t given her in her earlier years, but he always came to Dylan’s defense when she and her mother got into a particularly nasty argument. The irony of the entire ridiculous situation was that, overall, she had a great relationship with her mother and loved her dearly. Most of the time they got along really well, as long as Dylan didn’t buck her mother’s plans too noticeably. She just hoped for an understanding that didn’t seem as if it would ever be forthcoming. Things had actually been better for the year she was a world away, excluding the dating a chick hiccup.

  Lost completely in her thoughts of family and home, Dylan didn’t notice as her classmates slowly filled the room. She was sitting a few rows from the front, torturing herself by being near a particularly large and ornate window that dared the interior world to find something more beautiful outside. She dimly registered a slight change in the cadence of footfalls as students shuffled to their seats. The gentle tap on her shoulder quickly followed by the sharp thump on the floor wasn’t enough to pull her completely from her thoughts until a deliciously familiar voice dragged her back to the present.

  “Bob?”

  Dylan whipped around, happy to see Seneca. Dylan surprised them both by hopping out of her seat and wrapping her in a hug. She felt Seneca stiffen at the initial contact, and Dylan chastised herself for not being more sensitive. Their dance had given her a hint that Seneca didn’t like unexpected contact. But Seneca didn’t pull away and awkwardly returned the embrace, even if she wasn’t able to fully relax into it.

  Dylan pulled out of Seneca’s arms, reminded of how nice they felt around her from their dance a few nights earlier. She felt her face flush, which was embarrassing. She had no idea what had possessed her to hug Seneca, but she wasn’t disappointed that she had. The other women in the class stared, open-mouthed at the display. Dylan was sure most of them knew of Seneca, and not one of them could ever imagine working up the courage to say hello, much less hug her in the middle of a classroom. Seneca didn’t exactly give off a warm, fuzzy vibe. Dylan’s friends had been giving her the Seneca 101 crash course. Or at least the rumors about her. Dylan didn’t believe most of it.

  “I was worried about you,” Dylan said, returning to her seat and nodding to the open seat next to her, inviting Seneca to take it.

  Seneca hesitated a second, looking conflicted. She lowered herself heavily and seemed to unconsciously rub the leg she limped on.

  Dylan watched as Seneca tried to ease the pain of her injured leg, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t any of her business why Seneca didn’t use a cane or crutches, or what had happened to her in the first place, and she figured she got asked about it a lot. She really wanted to know, however.

  “Why were you worried about me?” Seneca asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “You seemed upset before you left the other night. I hope I didn’t do or say anything to offend you.” Dylan was pretty sure Seneca’s reaction had had nothing to do with her, but she really did want to make sure she was okay. It seemed out of place to just ask.

  “You were worried from the other night? You’re still worried about that?”

  Seneca’s confusion nearly broke Dylan’s heart. “Of course. You were upset.”

  Dylan watched Seneca trying to wrap her head around Dylan’s concern. What happened to you? Why can’t you believe anyone would be concerned about you?

  She didn’t have a chance to ask, although she wouldn’t have expected a response even if she had. Clas
s started and they were swept back in time to the land of the Egyptians, to Aristotle and Archimedes. Dylan felt Seneca slipping back into herself the longer the class wore on, and for some reason, that bothered her. She quietly tore out a page of her notebook and scrawled out a note. “So where are you taking me after class?” She put it on Seneca’s desk.

  Dylan saw Seneca read the note and then try everything she could think of to get Dylan’s attention, but Dylan stayed laser focused on the professor yammering on about their first reading assignment. Seneca was going to have to figure this one out on her own.

  Chapter Five

  “Bob? Bob, what does the note mean?” Seneca was trying her best to look sweet and innocent, her eyes exaggerating her plea. In reality, she was a basket of nerves, not sure what to make of the strange note. Perhaps it was nothing, but she wasn’t sure, and it made her uneasy. She was much less sure of herself outside the confines of the bar.

  “Relax, Seneca,” Dylan said. “I want to grab some coffee, and I wanted you to go with me. You know, to make up for not finishing our dance the other night. Don’t worry,” she said, seemingly reading Seneca’s mind, “no sex.”

  “Dylan, I told you not to believe everything your friends—”

  “Seneca!” Dylan said, interrupting before Seneca could really get going. “I was not implying that you had nefarious intentions. I was simply reassuring you that this afternoon my own intentions lean more to coffee than the bedroom. I’m a little obsessed with my afternoon coffee break, and today I want you to come with me. Agreed?”