Roller Coaster

by Karin Kallmaker

  "I'm glad you're not a white-wine-for-fish-red-wine-for-meat kind of girl."

  "I worked with too many sommeliers not to know there are no rules when it comes to a good wine." She sipped again. "So about Sunday night..."

  "It really was a panic attack?"

  "Yes. I have thought about it a lot and I could be wrong, but I think I've never been in that situation before."

  Suzy's eyebrows arched up. "You've never... Really?"

  "I've had affairs, and that's what they were. A couple of dates, intimacy, but they were short-term. I changed resorts sometimes as often as every three months. I worked with people who expected to move on themselves. There was never anybody I ever believed might lead to more. And I'm not saying I expect us to become a long-term couple but there's the chance that we could. And I've never..." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "I've never slept with a woman thinking it could be the start of something long-term. Meaningful. And yes, that appears to have terrified me."

  "You've never been in love?"

  "No. Never." She smiled, glad to let go of what still seemed like an adolescent's secret. "I had a huge crush on an actress for years. But she's straight and will never have me. Alas."

  "So's Keira Knightley, but I can dream." Suzy was staring pensively into her wine glass. "So you think that was it?"

  "I know it seems a little Ann Landers meets Dr. Phil, but yes, I think that was the trigger."

  "Have you had them often? Panic attacks? I'm sure, actually, that yoga could help."

  "It could. Lessons might be very useful for other reasons too." She gave Suzy what she hoped was a promising smile. "I avoid the trigger, and so I was really surprised that it happened in that, um, situation."

  "You mean while we were making out in your car?" Suzy seemed to be back to her flirtatious self. "Tell me more about the trigger."

  The arrival of the pickle chips interrupted their conversation, and they were quickly deep in food memories and impressions of the South Bay. They left the restaurant still comparing notes about French and Australian wines and decided to stroll part of the nearby Stanford campus. Some event was happening at a small theater on the edge closest to them and the area was alive with the bustle of students, all in a great hurry.

  It was a beautiful fall evening. The sun had long set but there was still a faint glow along the coastal hills. Laura was glad of her sweater as the air chilled the tip of her nose.

  They turned back after about ten minutes. Suzy took her hand as they talked about the learning center where she taught yoga and shared thoughts about the wellness connection between food and activity.

  "Though I think nothing bores people more than calling it 'wellness', I can't think of a better way to put it. Bodies need fuel and they need maintenance but they also need to be used." They were approaching Laura's car where it was parked on the street. "Speaking of that... Can I offer you a nightcap. At my apartment? It's not far."

  Laura was sure that the jolt she felt in her stomach was just nerves. Nerves and excitement. "I think that would be lovely. My hotel isn't far either but half the room is stacked with boxes."

  "I'm parked just down there. Why don't you follow me?"

  The drive was short and once they were both parked in the apartment complex's lot, Suzy led her up a flight of stairs and unlocked the door at the top. Her first impression was that Suzy's taste in décor was in all colors of beige and taupe, which might have been dull if not for the many plants that filled the windowsills and tables and a wall hanging in abstract reds and purples. Though not large, the living room was warm and inviting, much like Suzy herself.

  In a few minutes they were ensconced on a comfortable futon, sipping wine and not making eye contact.

  "I don't blame you if you're a little wary," Laura said. "I would be."

  "I guess I am. But I have such a good feeling about you. You're...nice. And I don't mean that like something pleasant and forgettable. I mean like the kind of person who calls when they say they will. Listens and talks equally. Polite, too."

  "Thank you." Laura couldn't help but smile. "I would like to think you don't find those rare qualities."

  "My ex-well, let's not get started down that road. It's very, very messy."

  "How long ago did you break up?"

  "A year-well, maybe two by now."

  She shifted so she was facing Suzy on the futon, looking for a topic that avoided Suzy's ex's faults but wasn't blatantly leading to the next possible activity in their evening.

  Suzy forestalled her by moving close enough to rest her head on Laura's arm along the back of the futon. "I have a thing about skin. I might as well admit it."

  "Skin? As in...?"

  "Skin. I like touching." She sought and held Laura's gaze. "I like the way a woman's skin feels along my palms."

  A nerve in Laura's neck jumped and she might have been embarrassed that it led to a clenching of the glands in her throat except that Suzy was delicious and promising exactly what Laura realized she was starved for. "You'll find that I am covered with skin just about everywhere."

  Suzy's low laugh was inviting and she sighed when Laura gently touched her throat. "I gather you won't mind if I touch you everywhere?"

  "As long as I can do the same."

  "Please, yes."

  She brushed her lips along Suzy's jawline. "You won't mind if I use my lips too, will you?"

  Another low laugh answered her question.

  Used to a more hurried and frantic pace in her past encounters, Laura told herself there was no rush to get anywhere since she and Suzy were definitely heading the right direction. Suzy's palms exploring her back felt wonderful, and when they gave up all pretense of remaining upright she melted into the pleasure of Suzy's embrace. Their clothes were slowly discarded and they shared a deep, mutual groan of appreciation as their naked breasts touched for the first time. No matter the muscle or bones, Laura loved how women were soft on the outside, plush in secret places and warm where they were wet. There was something so sweet about Suzy, something that reminded her of lazy sunsets in Jamaica that had painted her body with warmth.

  "Let's move to the bedroom," Suzy suggested in a low voice.

  Stretched out on top of Suzy and nuzzling along her collarbone, Laura said, "But I was just getting comfortable here."

  "More room there. I can't roll you over here and I would really like to."

  Laura lifted an eyebrow. "What makes you think I want to be rolled over?"

  "I promise to make it worth your while."

  Keeping her actions deliberate enough for Suzy to object, she pinned Suzy's arms to her side and heard her breath catch. She kissed her as slowly as possible, which became difficult as Suzy arched under her and opened her legs slightly. She ended the kiss and whispered in Suzy's ear, "Let's move to the bed then."

  Moments later, the tickle of Suzy's hair along her spine and the feel of crisp cotton against her breasts sent flares of desire through her body. Her toes curled and she couldn't help but lift herself to Suzy's hands as they pressed into the muscles along her back.

  "This is the best massage I've ever had," she murmured.

  Suzy lowered her body until Laura could feel her taut nipples on her back. Her face was enveloped with the silk of Suzy's hair as Suzy said in her ear, "This is not a massage."

  She felt Suzy's hand between her legs and gasped. In less than a heartbeat she was consumed with need, sudden, hard and direct.

  "This is okay?"

  "Yes." She managed to get to her elbows. The throb of her arousal was amplified by lightning sparks across the surface of her skin. Words evaporated before she could say them, and trapped in her head was a shimmering fugue of yes and beautiful and woman and more. She fumbled for the headboard and held on as if she might break.

  She was awakened by a light cramp in her calf. By the time she had kneaded it out, without waking Suzy, her need to discover the whereabouts of the bathroom had grown intense. Fortunately, the apartm
ent was small.

  As she washed her hands and face the smells and sounds of the night washed over her. Delicious, every moment, and very pleasing to discover that Suzy received with the same degree of pleasure as she gave.

  "You might have prepared better," she told herself as she smeared toothpaste around her mouth with her finger and glowered at the reflection of her sleep-mashed hair. If she had bed head then it truly was overdue for a trim. "Find stylist. Today."

  Her mouth softened into a smile. Tomorrow would be soon enough-only a fool would rush away when the morning might have more to offer.

  Back in bed Suzy stirred and rolled over, cuddling against Laura's warmth. It was moments like these that carried her all the way back to the first time she'd realized that the simple feel of skin-to-skin with another girl left her breathless.

  Suzy coughed slightly and after a moment opened one eye. "Morning?"

  "Yes it is." She kissed the soft sleepy mouth and felt Suzy's lips smile against hers.

  "Do you have to head out?"

  "No. I thought I'd make us some breakfast. I find I'm quite hungry, in spite of the lovely dinner we had."

  Suzy closed both eyes as she grinned. "It's the exercise we had last night."

  "Do you have any skeletons in your kitchen?"

  "Nope, not a one."

  "Then I'll explore. You can stay where you are if you like." Not seeing a robe she could borrow, she pulled on her jeans and sweater.

  She was whisking some egg substitute together with dried chives and a dash of Tabasco when Suzy padded in wearing a light green robe. "I'll make tea. Would you like some?"

  "I'd love some," Laura admitted. "Preferably fully leaded. That's with caffeine."

  "Morning Thunder, that will do the trick."

  They worked mostly in silence until Laura turned out an omelet which she split between the two plates Suzy provided. It wasn't as fluffy as she liked, but there was no milk. Thankfully some shredded Monterey Jack had added a bit more flavor.

  "Thank you, this smells great."

  It was a pleasure to look at the still sleepy Suzy. Some of her sexual wattage was definitely toned down, leaving behind a sweet and easy smile that proclaimed she was quite content with her world. Suzy's face looked like the way Laura felt inside.

  "I am so glad you got over the panic."

  "Me too. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head, I am very glad."

  "You never did tell me what the trigger is. I don't want to accidentally do that to you."

  "I doubt you could. It's about drugs." She tried to keep her tone nonchalant. "I get near cocaine and it makes me very, very anxious. And if I think about it too much, same thing."

  Suzy stilled.

  The room suddenly felt cold, but there was nothing for it. "I'm a recovering cocaine addict. There's no easy way to say it easily so I'm sorry it's so blunt. It's the truth."

  Suzy shook her head slightly. "Are you an addict? Right now?"

  "Once an addict always an addict. I don't believe there is a cure." There was masses of literature behind her choice of words, reading she'd done over so many years, but she didn't think Suzy wanted a lecture. She'd hoped that being involved in the wellness industry, Suzy would know more than she apparently did. A knot of fear formed in her stomach. "Or do you mean am I currently using?"

  "Is there a difference?" Suzy's tone was flat and her eyes had lost their inner shine.

  Not sure Suzy wanted an answer, Laura still gave her one. "There is a world of difference. I am not using. That's why I said recovering. I haven't used in years."

  "So you're cured."

  Laura took a deep breath. "That's not how it works." She repeated, "There is no cure."

  "Sure there is." Suzy pushed her plate away, her mouth twisting as she struggled to speak. "I don't want to hear crap about how it's a disease. That's just an excuse. An excuse addicts use to hurt people and then act like 'sorry, I can't help myself' makes up for it."

  "You've had an addict in your life, haven't you?" If she'd known she would have probably not said anything until they got to know each other much better.

  "It wasn't my addiction. I have willpower and self-respect. I was in a relationship for five years and lost her to meth. I had to move twice to get away from her. She stole stuff, she lied. I won't do it again."

  Tamping down her own anger, Laura tried again. "If you can calm down we can talk about this."

  "You should have told me last night."

  "It's not something I announce to everyone. It's a part of me that I deal with every day, but I try not to force other people to." Maybe I should have made a point of it, she thought. She'd told very few people because it just wasn't relevant to temporary relationships. She was all at sea with dating that could lead to for keeps.

  She couldn't help but add, with an edge to her voice, "You don't know me well enough yet to realize that I have an astonishing amount of willpower and self-respect. That's why I'm recovering."

  Suzy was shaking. "I want you out of here. I can't do this again. I can't stand liars. I want you to go, right now."

  Laura held up her hands, fighting back tears. This entire scene was the kind she'd really hoped she would never live. This is not about you, an inner voice tried to reassure her, but when the door slammed behind her it certainly felt like it was.

  Had she misled Suzy? What was she supposed to have said? She hadn't lied, and she'd told the unvarnished truth. The rules of her sobriety didn't insist that she reveal her past, they only warned her that lying about it was a dangerous path. Lots of addicts in recovery didn't tell the new people in their life until significant time went by, and some never told-and that scene she'd just endured was a fine example of why. She couldn't do that again with anyone else she might date. She just couldn't. She'd regretted not telling Helen about it at the interview, but no longer. She loved cooking for the Baynors and she wasn't going to risk losing that.

  She cried all the way back to her hotel, mopping at her eyes with a fast-food napkin. She had a splitting headache and her sinuses ached. She took a shower and spent thirty minutes on the bed with a cloth over her eyes.

  There had been possibilities with Suzy. For fun, and exploring food and wine and sharing very good sex. Your cocaine addiction made those possibilities more remote, she told herself. Don't blame Suzy or her ex for more than their share. This is about cocaine and this is the price you pay for having a disease.

  She sat up finally, mind circling around the addict's unsolvable equation. It was not her fault she had a disease that made it impossible to control her behavior in some situations. People with other sorts of diseases are usually not told it's their own fault, so suck it up and cure yourself. There was next to no money spent on research into addiction prevention, just money for prevention of using-and those were two utterly different things. Nobody knew why some people could use and walk away while others turned into Pavlov's dog, slobbering and begging for more because the bell was always ringing.

  But she was also as willing as most people to think some diseases had an element of self-infliction. Personal choices did cause all sorts of diseases. If she had never used in the first place she might not be sitting here. People should reap what they sow and not expect a bottomless checkbook of compassion and aid to bail them out after their bad choices. But such thinking was why so few even bothered to begin looking for a cure for AIDS. It wasn't until it started killing people who hadn't made so-called "bad choices" that research got decent funding.

  The conflict-between accepting she had a disease while never accepting that it was an excuse-could not be solved. That meant living with the ambiguity of it, every day. It meant having compassion for herself and yet always being wary of any voice of inner pity.

  She was a good person.

  She'd never hurt anyone but herself through her addiction, and she thanked God for that.

  She didn't deserve to be a stand-in for the whipping Suzy had never been able to give her ex. />
  Taking personal responsibility for her behavior was a huge part of her sobriety and sobriety was addiction's kryptonite. It weakened, but didn't kill it. She starved it but the monster could hibernate. She accepted that she did not have the power to slay the monster, only resist it. For her, the monster lived as long as she did.

  She finally got up. She needed to occupy her hands if she wanted to get some control over her spinning thoughts. Thinking she'd make herself toast or have some cheese, she saw the red Dutch oven on the top shelf of the refrigerator. A deep breath over the lush aromas of caramelized vegetables and plum-cherries in the wine of the coq au vin helped clear her head. It was beautiful and she'd made it herself and she would get past this truly horrid day.

  Part Four:

  Inline Twist

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In spite of the best efforts of her taxi driver to avoid the crowds at the Port of Miami, Helen still found herself in the swelter of bodies queuing up for the gangplank. The Solstice Eclipse was massive and the dock was as crowded as Times Square on a Saturday night.

  Her instructions, carefully laid out in a letter from Karolina Tavitian, President of Tavitian Productions located in Chicago, referred to a VIP boarding area, but there was no dockside sign pointing to any such oasis. She saw to her suitcases and tipped the driver as beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead. The heat was wonderful but the thick layer of diesel fumes was not.

  A luggage hauler trundled by, stacked deep with suitcases and trunks and yellow luggage tags flapping. Her luggage tags-she'd forgotten to put them on.

  She had no sooner put on the bright purple tags than a longshoreman with a clipboard immediately stopped and asked her name. With a whistle and instructions she didn't quite hear her bags were claimed by a young man who added them to a hauler with other bags fluttering with purple tags. Their arrival triggered the attention of a woman in a white ship's uniform who crossed the dock at a brisk pace, hand extended in greeting.

  "Mrs. Baynor? You are expected. Welcome to the Solstice Eclipse." Helen found herself swept into matching stride as the woman continued in heavily accented speech-something Nordic, Helen thought. "The VIP access is this way."