by Jaime Maddox
“Nonsense. I’ll deal with your mother. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Just deal with Mom. Maybe you can calm her down, and in a few days maybe I can talk to her.”
“I’ll take care of it. You take care of you, okay?”
Trying very hard not to cry, Brit disconnected the phone and snuggled into Alex’s arms. She focused on the Christmas tree, then on one tiny ornament. It was a mouse, resting in a hammock laced with Christmas lights, and had been added to her tree from Alex’s collection. To Brit it represented Alex—so laid-back and calm. Nothing like the other woman who’d dominated her life, yet just as strong, and so much nicer.
I can do this! Brit thought. I can. I want Alex, I need Alex, I love Alex, and I can get through this crisis, because Alex is the prize I win if I manage to navigate this obstacle course. And what a prize! She was everything Brit could have hoped for, and for the first time in her life everything was perfect. It had been, anyway, until a few minutes ago, when her mother had forced her to make the most difficult choice of her life.
And she’d chosen Alex. She’d chosen to be herself. No matter how difficult, her choice had been the right one. It had been the only one, really, because she couldn’t keep lying and running and hiding the truth. She’d said the word lesbian to her mother, and while she was sure her mother had never said the word herself, she certainly understood its meaning. And now she understood that her daughter defined herself in that way, and Brit could do nothing to change that.
The only direction to move was forward, so she took a deep breath and put on her game face. “Let’s get a shower, Alex,” she said. “I don’t want to be late for dinner.”
An hour later, they were seated beside a roaring fire in the Daltons’ expansive living room. Frank poured a cocktail for himself and his wife, a beer for his daughter, and a malbec for Brit. This was their first appearance at the Daltons’ since Thanksgiving, and Brit found them just as friendly and inviting as they’d been on the last visit. Alex made a point of taking her in through the front door to show off the landscaping adorned with lights and a replica of Santa’s sleigh sitting on the lawn. And her parents made a point of greeting them at the door, offering hugs even before taking their coats.
“So, Brit, can you give me the inside scoop on the holiday tournament? I want to bet on the game, and my daughter is very scarce with details.”
“Isn’t that like insider trading?” Brit asked.
“I can see why you two get along so well,” he said in a teasing tone. “Seriously, it should be a great tournament. All of the teams are well balanced, and when you add the element of bloodlust you see with these rivalries, anything can happen.”
“I think you’re right. Our girls are very excited, and they’re going to leave it all on the floor. I’d bet on us.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “I will.”
“You will what?” Liz asked as she walked across the room and set two trays on the coffee table. One held a cheese board with half a dozen varieties as well as grapes, almonds, and fig jam. The other was piled with stuffed mushrooms.
“Bet on Alex’s team.”
Liz shook her head disapprovingly as she took her drink and sat beside Alex. “How was your holiday so far?” She looked from Alex to Brit.
Alex winked at Brit and saved her from answering. “Brit and I always have a great time together, Mom. But we’ve been so busy with practice and games I think we just needed a little down time. We slept in and watched some movies.”
Liz lovingly rubbed Alex’s arm. “I’m glad you got some rest.”
Brit was amazed by the interaction between them. Alex had just told her mother she’d spent a late morning in Brit’s bed, and her mom was happy for her. Why couldn’t all mothers be like Liz Dalton? Or, at least, why couldn’t her mom?
Chapter Twenty-four
Winners and Losers
P.J. jumped up in anticipation as Kelsey battled for a rebound and then squeezed her body through a pack of defenders. He pumped his fist to the heavens as the ball fell through the net. He joined the entire student section, jumping up and down, cheering wildly as their team came from behind to tie the score. So much noise filled the gym that the referee’s whistle was useless, and he watched the woman gesturing to learn the call.
“Yes!” he shouted. “And one!” The students cheered as the official dropped her arm, her second finger pointing down to indicate Kelsey had been fouled on the shot.
He looked at the scoreboard. Four seconds left in the third overtime period. Score tied, ninety-four, ninety-four. Kelsey on the line, shooting one foul shot to win the game. It didn’t get any more exciting than this, and two thousand fans at the Lackawanna College Student Union showed their team spirit. Half of them were screaming and half were biting their nails, but all of them had seen a great game.
The opposing coach called a time-out, and the noise level in the gym grew even louder.
P.J. looked around the sea of students. They were packed into the gym, but no one seemed to mind. He searched for one face in the crowd and found it. Justina was a few rows down from him, sitting with her friends, but he noticed she spent as much time turned around looking at him as she did watching the action on the court. Maybe she still liked him after all. The thought made him smile. All of his old friends were at the game, too. They’d all caught Falcon Fever.
This is what high school was supposed to be like, he thought. Spending time with friends. Cheering on your team. Having fun. Smiling at girls.
He wished he hadn’t spent the hour before tip-off in the parking lot collecting bets on this game. He had, though. Students from both schools had bet nearly two thousand dollars on the game. It was unbelievable, but the team’s success had created a gambling frenzy as everyone wanted in on the action.
The gym grew silent and he held his breath as the teams took their places around the key. The official handed Kelsey the ball. Her shoulders heaved with the deep breath she took, even as the fans seemed to hold theirs. After calmly bouncing the ball once, she raised her arms and launched it toward the basket.
It hit nothing but net.
The crowd roared with cheers and groans, the opposing team immediately called time-out again, and P.J. caught Justina’s eye. She smiled at him. “This is so great,” she said above the crowd.
“Yeah, isn’t it?”
“Are you going for pizza after?” she asked him.
He wanted to, he really did. He needed to talk to Kelsey after the game, though. The Man had told him he had to, and he wasn’t about to piss him off again. And with all the reporters and fans around, it could be a while before P.J. had Kelsey alone. By the time he reached the pizza place, everyone would probably be gone. Worse yet, if they were still there, they’d ask him where he’d been.
He looked at Justina and offered a sad smile. “I can’t,” he said. “Maybe next time.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Blue Christmas
Brit smiled into the mirror, studying all thirty-two teeth. She’d just flossed and they seemed to pass inspection, with no particles of food hiding between her molars with tooth decay on their agenda. Although she knew she was overreacting, she felt like this was the only reason she had to smile.
It had been a difficult few days. She’d spoken with Jordan on Christmas night after dinner, and her sister had simply pretended nothing had happened. That was typical Jordan, avoiding controversy at all costs, and although Brit understood the simple fact that they were speaking meant that Jordan loved her, it would have been wonderful to have a real conversation about everything going on in her life. Her sexuality. Her feelings for Alex. The scene with her mother. But nothing was said and never would be, not with Jordan.
Not with Sam, either. She didn’t hear from her eldest sister until the morning after Christmas, when her simple phone call to confirm the game time made Brit weep with joy. Both sisters and their families were present in the stands as the team won the first round of
the annual holiday tournament, and they all went to dinner afterward. Brit had planned on that time as a way for her family to meet Alex socially before she spilled the beans, but as it turned out, the beans were already scattered on the floor, and she walked into the restaurant with her nerves on edge, unsure of what to expect.
But Sam was her typical self, a much taller and more beautiful version of her mother, and just as controlling. She took charge at the restaurant, not only arranging the seating (she’d thankfully placed Alex beside Brit), but also providing games for the boys to occupy them during the waiting time. She even made menu suggestions because she’d eaten there before. Their suspiciously absent parents were not discussed, but both her sisters and their husbands were cordial to Alex, and their sons loved her. Conversational topics included holiday gifts, the weather, the game, their clothing, and finally, the food. It seemed they talked about everything except the one issue of importance, and it was maddening. Even if dinner wasn’t the right setting to have a heart-to-heart, some mention of it would have eased Brit’s angst. If not for one small incident in the parking lot after dinner, Brit might have thought Sam was oblivious to the events of Christmas Day. “I love you, no matter what,” Sam said as she pulled Brit into a hug that was just a little tighter and longer than usual. And Brit knew that, like with Jordan, nothing else would ever be said.
She supposed she should have felt grateful they’d shown up at all. She knew her mother wouldn’t support their decision to support her, and with all the money Joan gave them and babysitting she provided, they were smart to stay in her good graces. Yet, she couldn’t help wishing for more from them. If she were with a male Alex, the sisters wouldn’t have shut up about him until Easter, but their discomfort kept them quiet, and Brit couldn’t do anything about that. She’d have to navigate the murky water she’d created with her mother with only her own instincts to guide her. And perhaps with a little help from her dad.
Brit met her dad for lunch the next afternoon, and he, at least, wanted to discuss what was happening, even if she didn’t feel comfortable telling him everything she felt. He was, after all, her father.
“Britain, are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Yes, Daddy.” She squeezed his hands. “I am.” Looking across the table at his handsome face, Brit realized he looked tired. His hair had always been blond and the gray didn’t show, but it seemed to have turned white overnight. The last thing he needed was a family crisis. More than likely he’d been losing sleep in his concern for her and the grief her mother was causing him.
He simply nodded and looked to the ceiling or maybe to God as he took in a deep breath and squeezed back.
“Would you like to know the details?”
The shocked look on his face made her laugh. “Not those details!” she retorted, and his blush made her laugh even more.
But he told her he wanted to know everything about her, because she was his baby girl and he loved her. And so Brit wiped away a tear and told him how she’d never felt an attraction to boys—or to girls for that matter—until she met Megan.
“Is she—?” her father asked, unable to hide the shock on his face.
“No, Dad. But I did have a crush on her, a long time ago.”
And then she told him about dating, and meeting Alex, and falling in love with her.
“So, she’s your first…love?” he asked, and although he fumbled over the words, Brit knew he was genuinely interested.
Brit nodded. “Yes.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
They’d both been pushing the food around their plates rather than eating, and Brit suddenly stopped and put her fork down. “Daddy, I’d be crushed if it doesn’t work out with Alex. I’m in love with her. But I’ll still be a lesbian. That’s not going to change.”
And even though he hadn’t specifically asked that question, Brit sensed that was exactly what he wanted to know. This wasn’t about Alex. It was about Brit.
“Well, then, I hope it works out, because you deserve to be loved. Not just loved, adored. And spoiled.”
“I’m okay with just being loved. I have you to spoil me,” Brit said in a teasing way.
“Well, then I’ll buy lunch,” he offered, and their stomachs finally settled down enough to eat their food instead of playing with it.
Halfway through the meal, after they’d talked about their family, the topic turned to medicine. Her dad always loved to talk shop. “Daddy, what do you know about ankylosing spondylitis?”
He swallowed and studied her a moment before answering. “It can cause aortic aneurysms and irregular heartbeats. It’s treated with biological agents and steroids. There’s no cure. Other than that, though, I don’t know much. Why?”
Brit had read about Alex’s disease, and she already knew everything her father said. It was still scary to hear him say the words, as if having him validate the Internet’s information made it more ominous. Nothing about this disease was good, and Brit desperately wished it wasn’t waging war in Alex’s body. Her father might be able to help in some way, and Brit would have liked to share the information with him. Yet she knew Alex kept her diagnosis private, and she didn’t feel she could share it without betraying Alex’s trust. “One of my friends was just diagnosed.”
He nodded in understanding. “Well, if she has questions, hook her up with Pete Morgan. He’s just finishing up in rheumatology in New York. He’ll be joining his father’s practice in July.”
“Maybe I’ll do that, Dad. I’ll look him up.”
Before they left he told her he wanted to meet Alex, and Brit promised to set up a date for the next week. She knew it would be stressful—because her dad would actually talk to Alex and might ask some questions that made Brit uncomfortable. She could imagine some noble inquiry, such as “What are your intentions with my daughter, Ms. Dalton?” But Brit would handle it. She’d prefer a million questions to the silent treatment her mother was giving her. And her mother wasn’t likely to back down. To her mom, this wasn’t just a matter of pride (or shame); it was a matter of morality. And in her eyes, Britain was sinning, betraying not just her family and her values, but her god.
Her mood was better after lunch with her dad, but her heart was still heavy as she and Alex boarded a Martz bus for New York on Sunday morning. They’d won the game the night before and had a quiet night at home, but the incident with her mom had definitely deflated the holiday mood. Kinky Boots was as good as she thought it would be, and she and Alex strolled through Central Park and window-shopped on Fifth Avenue, just like she’d always dreamed. But in her dreams she was happy, and in reality, she was not.
Forcing herself to eat and smile and talk to Alex was draining, and as New Year’s Eve approached, Brit found herself too tired to pretend any longer. “Let’s just stay home,” she said, and collapsed on the couch with the pillow over her head as Alex called to make excuses to the friends they’d planned to join for a party.
Why did it have to happen this way? She thought she loved Alex enough to endure anything, but as she looked at herself in the mirror, she wondered if that was true. Perhaps she’d overestimated her strength and courage. All she wanted to do was cry, and somehow she felt that crying was immature, because she’d done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the pain that had been dropped upon her like the weight of the world.
And her world was in such chaos. Maybe she’d been lonely before she met Alex, and she’d definitely been unfulfilled, but she hadn’t been miserable. Now she had the girl and the great sex, and she’d never been more unhappy in her life.
“You’ve really fucked it all up, Britain,” she told the woman in the mirror, and then she turned off the bathroom light and headed for bed.
Chapter Twenty-six
True Love
Tapered candles flickered in tall candlesticks made of china, casting their light on a beautifully set table. Flowers added color to the crisp white linen. A bottle of Chianti had been uncorked and was breathing be
side two glasses. Soft music played in the background, and the smell of spices and spaghetti sauce filled Brit’s apartment.
It was the setting for a perfect Valentine’s Day dinner, and in spite of the dour mood that had seemed to plague her since Christmas, on this day, Brit was excited. She’d rushed home after practice, asking Alex to give her an hour to make the preparations. She’d turned on the oven, set the table, poured the wine, and now she decided to drink some. She willed herself to be happy.
Sipping the wine, she looked at the scene and wondered how she could feel so sad. Her job was fulfilling and she enjoyed going to work every day. Basketball was exciting and rewarding. The team was winning and their energy was infectious, and Brit couldn’t wipe the smile off her face when she was around them. Kelsey seemed out of sorts, and Brit wondered about her. She reminded herself to talk to Alex about it.
Alex. Alex was amazing. A good friend, a passionate lover. Brit couldn’t find anything wrong with her, and she wondered why she was trying.
She wanted to be happy. She was trying to be happy. But should you have to try? Shouldn’t happiness just be the reward for working hard and living a good life? She suspected the Bible sold it that way, but she saw her share of sad people in church. Maybe she’d talk to her new priest. It never would have occurred to her to talk to her old priest, the one at her parents’ church. But her new church in Clarks Summit was guided by a younger man, one who didn’t know her parents, or her aunt the nun, or her uncle the priest. Maybe he could help her sort it all out, tell her what to do.
Or maybe she should see a therapist. A counselor might be able to help, suggest how to deal with this loss that felt like a death. Her mother still hadn’t spoken to her, and even though her father was an angel, that didn’t make up for the loss of her mom.
