by Radclyffe
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know, dating-type stuff—finding common interests, discussing ground rules like monogamy...or not, views on world peace—that kind of thing.”
“There’s still time for all of that, Sean,” Susan said practically. “Besides, you’ve already got the common interests. You both like organized strife.”
“Believe it or not, that says a lot about us,” Sean agreed with a laugh.
“See what I mean? Half way there already.”
“I hope so,” Sean murmured, thinking of the other things they hadn’t discussed—nightmares, secrets, and old ghosts.
*
Sean spent most of the day in a haze. The only times her mind was clear were the fifty-minute intervals she spent with her clients. Between sessions, she sat at her desk and aimlessly rearranged the pens and pencils. Every few seconds, she would be ambushed by a pastiche of images, all of them some memory of Drew. The night Gail had cracked her nose—opening her eyes and seeing Drew’s expression of panic and terror, caught in some distant agony. Making love with Drew the night before—her vulnerable eyes, her sure hands, the taste of her passion. Then waking to Drew’s nightmare—hearing her indescribable suffering. And not knowing how to comfort.
Professional instincts told Sean that whatever Drew was fighting, it was serious. Serious enough, perhaps, to keep them apart, and that was something she passionately did not want.
Why? What is it about her, and no one else? She held her head in both hands and tried to think rationally about something completely irrational. What is love? The age-old question.
She could cite reasons. It was more than just Drew’s physical appeal, although, God knew, that attraction was powerful. But she had admired physical beauty in other women before and had never been drawn to them the way she was drawn to Drew. Never ached to touch them, hold them. Never been desperate to be claimed by them.
When she could get beyond the indescribable experience of making love with Drew, she was aware that it was Drew’s fierce discipline and self-control combined with her deep caring and compassion that really captivated her. Even more than that, though, she realized, were those glimpses of suffering that Drew revealed in her unguarded moments. That’s what made Sean ache to hold her, not just with desire, but also with love.
It made sense to her that Drew’s hidden torment would call to her. She chose the work she did because the pain of others compelled her, touched her deeply, made her ache with emotion more intense than any pleasure. She was drawn to pain because, inevitably, it was the common experience that bound all creatures in their valiant struggle called life.
She sighed and pushed back from her desk. There was no point in pondering precisely what constellation of factors had created her desire for Drew or how or why she had ended up in bed with her the previous night. Indeed, regardless of the subtler issues at work, she felt what she felt—and what she felt was an overwhelming and inescapable need to see her again.
Thankfully, it was time to get ready for class.
*
Chris was surprised to find Drew at the door when she answered the bell late Saturday afternoon. “Hey, Drew!”
“Hello, Chris,” Drew replied quietly. “Is Janet in?”
“In the garden. Go on back.”
“Thanks.”
Chris didn’t question her or attempt to follow. It was clear from Drew’s hollow tone and the dark look in her eyes that something was troubling her.
The narrow stone path led from the rear of the house into a diminutive sitting area enclosed on all sides by stone walls partially obscured by carefully tended plantings. Janet was there, reading. As Drew approached, she looked up and closed her book gently.
Drew bowed formally. “Forgive me for interrupting—”
“I am glad to see you. I’ve been expecting this visit for some time now.” She merely smiled at Drew’s surprised expression and pointed to a chair beside her. “Sit down, please.”
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. There was very little heat left in the fall sunlight, and Drew shivered in her light jacket. It was an unusual reaction for her, and she wondered briefly if the chill wasn’t due to something inside. Janet, who was wearing a quilted top, did not seem to notice the cold.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to go away for a while,” Drew said at length. “I’m sorry. I know I’m abandoning the class.”
Janet shook her head. “You would not do this without a good reason.”
Drew looked away, wondering if that were true.
“Where will you go?”
“The two-week drill for my marine reserve unit is coming up soon. I meant to tell you about it before this, but somehow I lost track of time.” She didn’t add that she’d lost track of almost everything in the last few weeks because all she’d been thinking about was Sean’s absence and worrying over what might be happening with her and Susan. “I’ve decided to leave early. I’m not sure where I’ll go until I need to report.”
“How long will you be away?”
“Six, eight weeks.” Drew was evasive, wondering why she found it so difficult to say what she had come to say. Perhaps it was that the permanence of what she was contemplating had finally penetrated her consciousness. That she might not see Sean again. That she might never know what could have grown between them. She forced herself to continue. “There’s a chance that I might not be back.”
Drew’s voice was flat, but her trembling hands betrayed her agitation. Janet contemplated her statements quietly, listening for the things that were unsaid.
“I hear what you are saying, but you have not told me why you will go.” Janet smiled kindly. “And I think that is why you are here.”
“I didn’t think I was that easy to read,” Drew said ruefully.
“You’re not. But I have known you since you were fourteen. You did not hide your feelings as well then, and I have not forgotten how much you say in your silence.”
“I’m not entirely certain why I left the Corps to begin with. For so long, it was all I had and all I thought about. It helped me...forget.” She stopped suddenly, forced to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Then, last year, the memories started coming back with a vengeance—even from...before.” She wiped the cold sweat from her face. “Things that had been wiped out, buried in the shadows of my mind. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. Maybe if I left, I could leave the memories behind.”
“Perhaps you’ve healed enough for you to remember.”
Drew laughed harshly. “Believe me, what I’ve been remembering does not feel like anything is healed.” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed, her eyes focused on some distant point. She thought of the reasons she had been giving herself for leaving since she woke up that morning, but could not bring herself to lie to her old friend.
“Maybe I’m just not ready for a regular life. I thought I was, but since I’ve been back, I’ve...the nightmares are back, too. I thought they were gone; it’s been years. But now, it’s even worse.”
“And you think they will stop if you go away?”
Drew raised her hands in a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know, but I have to do something.”
“The dreams may have come back because this is a safe place to have them—where you have friends, yes?”
“It’s not just that.” Drew struggled with how to explain that now she dreamed of Sean—terrifying images, all of them with Sean’s face. “It’s...” She stopped, helpless.
“Ah, yes. I think I see. There is now the situation with Sean.”
“You know?” Drew started, shocked.
“I know what I have seen. She looks at you with an open heart and eyes that long to hold you.” Janet Cho lifted a shoulder gently. “I know that you reach for her, but pull back, uncertain.”
“I slept with her last night,” Drew confessed. “I didn’t intend to.”
“And now, you are afraid?”
“It was the wr
ong thing to do,” Drew said harshly. “I wasn’t thinking. There’s something about her—I felt it right away. When I look at her I feel calm, balanced...safe somehow.” She lifted her eyes to Janet’s, determined to be honest. “And I wanted her. God...so much.”
“There have been others since—”
“No,” Drew interrupted, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. There was never anyone but her, before or after. I didn’t think there ever would be. But Sean...from the minute I saw her, I felt something. I wanted to get close to her.”
“This is not a bad thing, Drew. You wanted to be connected—that means you are alive.” She extended a hand and tapped Drew’s chest gently. “In here. Where it counts.”
“I didn’t know she’d never been with a woman before,” Drew said vehemently, angry with herself for not seeing, not wanting to see. When we danced, Sean said she’d never done it before, but I chose to ignore what that meant. Because it felt so damn good to hold her.
“Does that matter now?”
“It’s not right for her to begin this way. Not with me. Not with the way I am. I should have stopped it sooner, but I...couldn’t.”
“Then I think there is something powerful between you.”
“My need,” Drew rasped. “My weakness.” Abruptly, she rose and began to pace in the small, enclosed space. “I held her and I couldn’t help myself.”
“Do you think there is no need in love, Drew? We are human because we need love. We need to love.”
“Not this way. Not without something to give, strength to answer need.”
Janet Cho did not argue, did not point out that Sean had seen what Drew could not—her strength of spirit. Drew was deaf now, unable to hear beyond her pain; blind as well, unable to see beyond her self-doubt. Her heart would open, or it would not.
“I will miss you, Drew. Be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself.”
“Forgive myself? Never.”
Chapter Ten
Janet Cho faced her class. As always, the eager faces stirred many emotions—love, pride, concern, duty. From a distance, her hand guided them in the physical quest for spiritual growth. By hardening their bodies, they hardened their spirits. By listening to their bodies, they learned to listen to their hearts. There were many paths to personal growth. This was but one, but it was here, under her eyes, that they had chosen to face their limitations and learn their strengths. They honored her with their trust. She honored their struggles.
“Master Clark has been called away unexpectedly,” she began quietly. “We do not yet know if she will return.”
Stunned, Sean didn’t hear the words that followed.
She hadn’t expected this. She had predicted many responses on Drew’s part to what had passed between them, but not this. In moments of optimism, when all she could remember was the incredible joy of those few hours they’d shared, she’d hoped that Drew had been as profoundly moved by their encounter as she, and that, in time, they would have a chance to build an even deeper connection. In moments of greater clarity, she’d considered embarrassed silence or an easy let down with a polite but distant reference to an “enjoyable” encounter that would not be repeated. She was too old and much too experienced in the ways of the human psyche to believe that every sexual encounter led to a relationship. But she had never imagined that Drew would simply leave, without a word.
The thought that she might never see Drew again left her reeling, as empty as if a huge hole had been blown through the center of her universe. She’d thought she could deal with the disappointment if one night were all the two of them ever shared, but she’d been wrong. Trying to stop the wanting would be difficult enough. But this—faced with a void where there had been desire and yearning and tenderness—this was more than she could bear.
I need to hear her say it. I need to hear her say she doesn’t want me. That she doesn’t need me. That last night was nothing more than a momentary release. Maybe the words will be hard to accept, but silence will kill me. God, if I never see her again...
She broke from the line and stepped to the side of the room.
“Sean?” Master Cho questioned.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I need permission to leave.”
Master Cho bowed. “You are dismissed.”
Sean’s hands shook as she stepped into the changing cubicle and hurriedly pulled off her gi. Drew’s apartment was within walking distance, and she ran most of the way. She had no plan, no speech prepared. No thought. Nothing except the choking fear that Drew would be gone, and she would never know why.
She held her breath until she heard the lock click on the door. And then Drew was there.
“Sean,” Drew murmured, bracing the door open with one arm as her body blocked the entrance. She was in jeans and a faded fatigue shirt with the sleeves rolled up almost to her elbows. She looked tired. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry.” It took all Sean’s will power not to touch her. “I had to see you.”
Drew looked uncertain for a moment, then stepped back from the door. “Come in. There’s coffee—”
“No, thanks.”
They faced each other awkwardly, until Drew finally motioned to the small couch pushed beneath the open window. Sean had a vague recollection of finding some of her clothes there in what seemed like a lifetime ago, but had in reality been only hours before. She stepped into the room and hesitated, suddenly swamped with the visceral memory of having made love exactly where she now stood.
“Sit down, please.” Drew reached out as if she were about to take Sean’s hand and then stopped abruptly before moving back a pace. Turning her back, she crossed to the couch and then motioned for Sean to join her. When they were both seated, mere inches between them that might have been miles, she said, “I thought you’d be in class right now.”
“I was,” Sean said with little inflection. “Then Master Cho said you were leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sean tried to stifle the gasp of surprise but failed. It took her a moment to be certain that her voice would not quaver. “Is this permanent?”
Drew stared at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. She’d heard the hurt in Sean’s voice even though she knew Sean was trying to hide it, and she hated herself for having been the cause of it.
“I don’t know. Yes—maybe—probably.”
Sean took a deep breath. She could leave now and imagine her own reasons. Try to forget, try to stop thinking of the way Drew had touched her—her body, her heart. Or, she could have the truth. She wasn’t sure which would be the harder. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“Sean, this isn’t going to help.”
Sean continued as if she hadn’t heard, but her voice was calm and her eyes held Drew’s with no hint of anger. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me a thing. But you mean something to me—no...” She halted, feeling the certainty within her grow. “No, I care for you. More than care.”
Looking away, Drew made a small sound in her chest, almost a groan. The tenderness and vulnerability in Sean’s eyes were more than she could bear. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not going to have any place to put those feelings unless I know why you’re leaving.” Tentatively, Sean touched her, lightly resting her fingertips on the rigid length of Drew’s thigh. She waited until Drew finally looked at her again. “Is it me? Something I said or did?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Drew said forcefully. “It’s me. I wasn’t thinking very clearly last night. I didn’t think about what it would mean to you—”
“You weren’t supposed to,” Sean interrupted gently. “I’m thirty-two years old, Drew. It took me eight years of a bad marriage and four years of celibacy to realize I wanted to love a woman. It took you to make me realize that. I’m responsible for my being here last night—because I wanted to be. I wanted you. I will not accept, however noble, you bearing all the respo
nsibility for last night. Please.”
“If I helped you to discover something about yourself, I’m glad.” Drew smiled, a small bitter smile. “But I’m not the woman you’ve been waiting for, Sean. I’m sorry.”
Sean expected it to hurt, she just hadn’t expected how much. Not until that moment did she realize just how deeply Drew had affected her. She turned her face away to hide the tears. How am I going to get over her?
“Ah, please don’t,” Drew whispered, bleeding inside. “Last night—”
“You don’t have to say anything more. Please, that’s not why I came,” Sean said softly. “I’ll go.”
“Sean, I’m sorry.”
Sean nodded. She did not look back as she headed for the door.
“Be well, Drew,” she whispered as she closed the door behind her.
The pain started in Drew’s chest the instant the lock clicked shut, a tiny muffled sound that struck her in the heart like the crack of a gunshot. She hadn’t thought she could hurt like that anymore. She hadn’t thought anything would ever touch her deeply enough to make her feel so much again. She dropped her head onto the back of the couch and closed her eyes as she willed the sound of Sean’s voice from her mind. After a few minutes, she had almost succeeded. Unfortunately, she knew it would take much longer to will Sean from her heart.
*
“Sean,” Susan called, rapping on her door. “Sean, come on, you’re scaring me. Let me in.”
“It’s open,” came the muffled reply.
Susan crossed rapidly to the bed where Sean lay face down and settled on the edge, placing one hand tentatively on her sister’s shoulder. “Are you crying?”
Susan tried not to panic. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Sean cry. Not even when they were kids, and their parents were fighting. Not even when Sean came home after leaving Michael and her entire life was turned upside down. “What’s wrong? I got worried when you came home early and rushed straight upstairs.”
