Doublecrossed

by Susan X Meagher

  “I’ve seen your pictures from the Bahamas, honey. If you’re going to be with women, I can’t see why you wouldn’t want to be with her. She’s really cute.”

  “I think she’s hot,” Callie said, chuckling.

  “I was gonna say that, but I didn’t want to make you mad.” He laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. “I haven’t had a lot of time to get used to you being a lesbian. I’m still not sure of the rules.”

  “I’m not either, Dad. But I’m going to move to Boston even if nothing happens between Regan and me.”

  “Is she…does she…do you want another relationship like you had with Marina?”

  “No. Not in any way.”

  “That was decisive. You defended your lifestyle pretty adamantly the last time we talked about it. Second thoughts?”

  “I still think an open relationship can work. But it can’t work with a liar. And a cheater. And a self-involved jerk. And a cheapskate. And a moody bitch.”

  “Got that out of your system?” His smile was so familiar she could see it in her mind.

  “No, I have a lot more ways to describe her. But I’ll save some for later. I like to have some gems to pull out when I need them.”

  *

  A month later, Regan left a message and as soon as she had a minute, Callie called her back. “What’s this I hear about a life-changing opportunity?”

  “It’s epic! Here’s your new address.” She started to rattle off a street number when Callie stopped her.

  “Hold on there. Aren’t you going to tell me about it?”

  “I could, but wouldn’t it be easier if you just started to pack?”

  Callie lowered her voice and sounded like a chiding schoolteacher. “Regan…”

  “Okay, but we’re wasting valuable time. A guy who lives close to where I lived in Cambridge got a grant to do research in China. He has a very nice apartment, but he doesn’t want to sublet it since he needs to come home every couple of months for a few days. So he’s willing to rent it to you for well below market rate. He just wants to be able to use it a few times over the course of a year.”

  “He’s going to be gone a whole year? That sounds ideal.”

  “It is. And it’s well within your budget. When he wants to come home, you can come stay with me. Now will you start packing?”

  Callie laughed. “I started as soon as you told me to. I just didn’t want you to see how malleable I am. Now give me the address again so I can start sending out change of address notices. I’m coming home to Boston!”

  *

  Over the next few days Callie learned that Alana was the conduit that provided the information about the apartment via Angela. But Regan insisted that didn’t bother her, and that she’d be very happy to visit Callie in Cambridge. Callie took her at her word and after exchanging e-mails and a few phone calls with Bruce, her new landlord, she got down to business and started making firm plans. Since she had no furniture to speak of, and the apartment was fully furnished, all she had to do was pack her personal items and clothes. To save money, she started sending one or two boxes a day to Regan at the restaurant. It was a fairly expensive way to move, but she figured it was cheaper than renting a truck or buying everything new.

  Ready to go by the first of July, she’d taken Regan’s advice and sold her car and was eagerly looking forward to using the money to buy a new computer when she got to Boston.

  *

  Delaney caught Regan on the way out the door of The Scituate Inn. “What’s this I hear about Callie moving to Cambridge?”

  Regan kept walking, making Delaney follow her out to her car. “She’s coming on Friday,” she said, looking very happy. “I can’t wait.”

  “So, you’re gonna stop being so hard-headed and start dating?”

  Regan stopped and looked at her for a few seconds. This was dangerous. Delaney loved to get involved but she didn’t know the whole story. And she didn’t need to. “I don’t have any plans to go out with her.”

  “What? Then why’s she moving here?”

  Regan shrugged. When she got to her car, she tossed her briefcase in the back and slid her long frame into the low-slung car. “She likes Boston.”

  Delaney stood so Regan couldn’t close the door. “Is she into you?”

  Sitting stock still, it took a few seconds for Regan to answer. “Uhm, yeah. Kinda. But I was as clear as I could be that we didn’t have a romantic future.”

  “Regan.” She dragged the name out, reverting to her “I’m gonna tell Mom” voice.

  “I did,” Regan said defensively.

  “What did you say? Exactly.”

  “I don’t remember. Something like we both had to want the same thing and have the same goals. Things like that.”

  Delaney thumped her on the head. “That’s not being clear! She’s probably moving here to be with you.”

  “No, no, she really loves it here. She’s a big history buff and she loves the weather.”

  Crouching down so they were at the same level, Delaney said, “Don’t screw around with her. Tell her you’re not interested if you’re not.”

  Lightly banging her head against the wheel, Regan moaned, “I can’t do that. I am interested. I’m very interested. And if there’s any chance that I’m wrong about her…” She trailed off, almost crying when Delaney patted her gently on the head. It would have been so nice to be able to spit it all out. To tell how much she cared for Callie, how wonderful it felt to be close to her, how she thought about her hundreds of times a day. But Delaney had zero tolerance for cheaters, and she’d think Callie was just that if she knew the truth. And Callie was too good a person to have Delaney think badly of her.

  “I don’t think you’re over Angela yet. Just take it slow.”

  “I will.” It would have been nice if that had been true. But Angela was in the past. Now Callie was all she thought of. She looked up as her older sister stood. “Thanks. I know I don’t make it easy, but I love that you care about me.”

  Delaney tugged on her dark hair. “I care about Callie. You’re on your own.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  On her flight to Logan Airport, Callie was giddy with freedom. That was a funny word to use, but it was the right one. Just the thought of making a conscious choice about where she lived was massively freeing. This wasn’t about Regan. It wasn’t solely about Regan. Living in Cambridge was going to be great. A world-class university, lots of tech people, history, seasons. Everything she’d ever wanted in a home. And being there would help keep her mind clear. Regan wouldn’t be in the next room, clouding her mind with thoughts of forbidden fruit. She’d have her own life, make her own plans, eat dinner when she wanted to, and not depend on another person for the roof over her head. This would be her first experience living completely on her own. It was about time.

  *

  The apartment was actually nicer than Regan described. Bruce either had the skills of an interior designer, or he had hired one. Callie followed the rather meek-looking economics professor around the small apartment as he pointed out all of its features. From the way Regan interacted with him, Callie could tell that they had not been close friends. But they seemed at ease with one another and he never mentioned Angela’s name, which Callie was happy about. Bruce was leaving the next morning, so Regan invited her down to the South Shore for the night.

  They were both hungry, and as they left Cambridge Callie said, “Let’s go someplace fun. My treat.”

  “Uhm…I was gonna go to the restaurant. My sisters want to see you.”

  “I can see them tomorrow, right?”

  Regan’s eyes shifted uneasily, the way Callie noticed they did when she was unsure about forcing an issue. “Yeah, you can, but…if you don’t mind I’d rather go there. I like the food there better than any place else.”

  “Done,” Callie said, pleased that Regan knew how to ask for what she wanted.

  They had a great time relaxing with the extended family and a few of the regul
ars who were dining there that evening. She’d been around these people for just hours, but they’d welcomed her like one of their own. It already felt like home. And it was only going to get better. Afterwards, when they were going to Regan’s house, Callie said, “I’m beginning to see why you feel comfortable at the restaurant. It’s nice to be able to go behind the bar and take what you want and make your own drinks.”

  “Yeah. I tried that at a couple other places and it doesn’t go over too well. I also like to be able to go into the kitchen and make sure my sister makes my hamburger the way I like it. She under cooks it if I don’t keep an eye on her.”

  “She’s a wonderful cook. I should be her apprentice for a few months to learn some tricks.”

  “The dinner you made for me when you were staying with me was great. I don’t think you need any help. I’m the one who’s hopeless.”

  “Alana can cook for you in Scituate and I’ll cook for you in Cambridge. You don’t have to learn a thing.”

  *

  The next morning they loaded all the stored boxes into a Scituate Inn van and drove them up to Cambridge. The entire endeavor was completed by two o’clock, and both women collapsed onto the sectional sofa that filled the living room. “Somebody should walk down to the liquor store and get some cold beer,” Regan said.

  “It would be nice. Maybe I could toss money down to somebody on the street and have them go.”

  “You could do that, but you wouldn’t get any beer in the deal. This is Boston, not heaven.”

  Callie forced herself to her feet and raised her hands above her head to stretch for a few moments. “I can’t complain about buying beer in exchange for a strong woman and a truck. Want anything special?”

  “Surprise me. You know what I like.”

  “I do. You like lagers and ales and you’ll drink a stout in a pinch, but only one. Your tastes are a lot like mine.”

  Regan smiled her most impish grin. “That’s why I think you have good taste. Hurry up now, the mover is thirsty.”

  *

  Callie had been in town less than a week when she called Regan to tell her some news. “I found a good running club here in Cambridge. I’m going for a five k run on Sunday morning at nine. Will you be there?”

  “You don’t even know where to order in a good pizza,” Regan teased. “And you’re already joining a club?”

  “Yep. I want to run the marathon for my fortieth birthday, so I don’t have a moment to waste.”

  “You’ve got over four years!”

  “I know, but I want to increase my mileage slowly. Then, once I can run twenty-six miles, I need to do a couple of marathons to get my qualifying time. I only want to run one a year so…”

  “It sounds like you’ve thought this out pretty carefully. If I follow your lead I can run one for my thirty-fifth.”

  “Don’t rub your youth in. I’ll do what I can to keep up with you with my decrepit self.”

  Regan laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem with you. You’re one determined cookie.”

  “So? Will you be here?”

  “Sure will. Can I come on Saturday?”

  “You can come on Friday if you want. Then we’ll have two nights to test out pizza places.”

  “Now that’s my kind of thinking. Have pizza two nights in a row, then go running. It’s a date.”

  *

  In another week Callie had found a group of women who played pool on Thursday nights. And a few more days had her signing up for a monthly meeting of website developers and graphic artists.

  That Friday night she walked into the Scituate Inn and was greeted by another new friend, an eighty-year-old man who had taken quite a shine to her. “Callie!” Jerry McMullen called, hoisting a beer in her direction. “Let me buy you a beer.”

  She smiled and sat down next to him at the small bar. “How could I resist?” She nodded to the night bartender, Alex. “A short draft, please.”

  Alex slid the glass down the bar and she sat happily chatting with the elderly man for a few minutes. Regan poked her head out of the office and did a double take when she saw her. “How long have you been here?”

  “One beer’s worth,” Jerry said. “We’re just getting started.”

  Callie could tell from Regan’s questioning expression that she was asking if Callie was comfortable. A short nod was the reply and Regan said, “We might as well have dinner, huh?”

  “Works for me,” Callie said. “Caesar salad with salmon, please.”

  “Done. Be right back.”

  “So how’s Cambridge treating you, honey?” Jerry said. “All of those pointy heads driving you nuts yet?”

  “Not yet.” She knew she could live in Cambridge for the rest of her life and be completely happy…as long as Regan was near.

  *

  They left the restaurant at around nine, and Callie could tell that Regan wasn’t herself. Deciding to give her a little while to decompress after a long day at work, she didn’t speak much on the way to the townhouse. But after Callie stored her overnight bag in the guest bedroom, she found Regan wandering around the apartment, looking like she was either thinking or blowing off some nervous energy.

  “How about a walk?” Callie asked.

  “A walk?” Regan’s response was almost rote. It was as though she hadn’t fully understood the question.

  “Do you need some time alone?”

  That seemed to snap her out of her fugue and she nodded. “No, I changed my mind. A walk would be good.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah. It might help to get something off my chest.”

  They left the apartment and walked in silence down to the harbor. It was fully dark now and the only sounds were the muted thump of rubber fenders protecting boats from the docks, the lapping of the water at the hulls, and a few distant horns. There wasn’t another person in sight, and after they started to walk along one of the piers, Regan let out a heavy sigh. She threw her head back and took in a deep breath, then said, “Angela called me today.”

  “Oh.” Callie didn’t need to say more. It was clear the call had upset Regan, so it was a waste of energy to ask her to restate the obvious.

  “It really took me by surprise, oddly enough. I guess…I guess I underestimated her perseverance.”

  “You don’t get her job without having a lot of that.”

  “True. But she’s not the kind of woman to risk humiliation. Coming back after the last time really took a lot for her.” She gazed at Callie. “I respect her for that.”

  Callie’s heartbeat started to quicken. A nagging fear she’d been consciously ignoring made her stomach flip. Angela was a woman Regan had dearly loved, and if she wanted her back that was how it had to be. That’s what true friends did, and no matter what, being a good friend had to be paramount.

  Luckily, the next words out of Regan’s mouth put her mind at ease. “It hurt to tell her no again, but it didn’t hurt as much as last time.” She gave Callie a sad, lopsided smile. “Practice pays off.”

  “Aww.” Callie put her hand around Regan’s arm and they walked closely together, slowly making their way up and down every dock. A speeding bullet-dodged. Angela’s bad fortune was cause for a guilty, silent celebration. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Okay. Kinda.” They walked a few more steps. “Sad. Really sad.”

  Callie held her arm more tightly while they strolled along at a slow pace. “I’m happy to listen to anything you want to say. But if you want quiet, you’ve got it.”

  “Thanks.” Regan disentangled and slung her arm around Callie’s shoulders. Just as she did every time this happened, Callie took in a breath, hoping to catch just a bit of Regan’s scent. It reminded her of a dusky red rose that grew in a yard near her apartment, and she assumed it was from a lotion or powder or some product she used. But she secretly hoped that Regan just naturally smelled like a beautiful flower.

  They walked for at least half an hour, with Callie listening to the
quiet sounds of the water and the occasional metallic clink from rigging hitting a mast or the groan of a tightening line. Regan broke the quiet. “Sit down with me?”

  “Sure.” They went out to the jetty, a long, built-up profusion of rocks that stretched out into the water. It was wide enough to walk on, and now, at low tide, it was safe to sit and dangle their feet in the cool water.

  Once they were settled, Regan said, “There’s a feeling I’ve been fighting.”

  “Fighting? That sounds serious.”

  “It is, kinda. It’s the feeling that Angela really might be able to make some of the changes I wanted her to make.”

  “Uhm, what’s there to fight about?” Her heart started to beat wildly again.

  Regan was looking out at the water, her eyes focused beyond the horizon. “Even if she can, I don’t want to give her another chance.”

  She said this with such cold detachment that Callie strangely felt sorry for Angela. But then Regan looked at her and Callie could see the sorrow in her eyes. “Does that make me coldhearted?”

  “No, of course not.” Callie put her hand on Regan’s bare thigh, tamping down her desire to squeeze the solid muscles she’d developed from running. “She broke your trust. It’s perfectly understandable that you don’t want to give her another chance to hurt you again.”

  “It’s not that,” Regan said immediately. “Mostly.”

  Callie sat, poised, waiting for more.

  “It’s partly about sex.”

  “Go on.”

  “Even when we were having sex pretty often…like in the first year…it was never quite right.” She grew quiet again, and her gaze returned to the void.

  Callie wasn’t about to start peppering her with questions, so she started to gently pat Regan’s leg, settling into a soothing cadence.

  After a few minutes, Regan seemed to open up and she talked with renewed energy. “We were too much alike. That’s the problem in as few words as possible.”