by Nell Stark
“You should come home with me for Thanksgiving,” she said, deciding that bluntness was the best strategy. “I bet you’ve never had a Korean-American turkey dinner before.”
Sarah turned her head and smiled, but the expression never reached her eyes. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. But I’m all set—going to stay with some friends in Wakefield. The ones who put me up after I left home.”
“Cool, okay.” Rory wrestled with her disappointment. She had just assumed that Sarah had nowhere else to go, and would be a part of her Turkey Day experience. Dammit—should have asked her earlier. Idiot. “Are you going there for Christmas, too?” she asked.
“I’m staying in the dorms, actually.”
“What?” Rory swung her head around so quickly that her neck hurt. The hell you are! “No way. You can—”
Sarah held up one hand. Her smile was genuine now. “Don’t worry. I’m going to Corrie’s on Christmas Day. I just decided to stay here because I have a lot to get done.”
“FRI stuff?”
“Yeah. I have to work on pulling together the big debate we’re having in January. And I also need to complete a bunch of applications. For Yale, for scholarships…feels like there’s a billion, and they all have deadlines of early next year.”
“Oh. Gotcha.”
They continued on in silence, but Rory’s brain was working furiously. Of course she’s going back to Yale, dumbass. Why wouldn’t she? Suddenly, she was uncertain about whether she wanted dinner after all. Her stomach felt queasy.
“Thanks for inviting me to your place,” Sarah said. She bumped Rory’s shoulder with her own. “That really means a lot.”
As always, it was easy to take refuge in teasing banter. “I didn’t realize how popular you were,” Rory countered. “Should’ve invited you sooner.”
“Ha ha ha.” Sarah kicked at a rock on the sidewalk and sent it spinning into the gutter. “You know, I’ve decided that the silver lining about being disowned is that you don’t have as many presents to buy.”
“I see what you mean,” Rory said, deciding to play along. “Maybe I should try that tactic. I’m stumped on what to get my mom.”
Sarah chuckled, but it sounded forced. Good try, babe, Rory thought. The wound was clearly still too fresh to be a laughing matter. Watching her stride along, shoulders hunched as though she were facing down some kind of invisible wind, made Rory’s heart flip-flop in sympathy. And then suddenly, she had an idea.
“You’re in no rush, right?”
“Huh?” Sarah looked up, surprised. “No, not really. Got a dance committee meeting at nine, but nothing before then. Why?”
“I want to show you something. It’s nearby, don’t worry.” This will be perfect.
“Feel like divulging more details?”
Rory grinned. “Nope. You’re gonna have to trust me.”
Sarah heaved a sigh. “Looks like my life is in your hands, then.”
Rory led her west a few blocks, into one of the residential areas of Kingston. Then she turned left, up a narrow, winding street. At the hill’s crest was a small park, nestled between two colonial style homes. It sported a swing set, a jungle gym, and a sandbox that looked like it could use some refilling.
“Here.” Rory set her bags on the ground and sat down in one of the swings.
“Here?” Sarah stood with her arms crossed under her breasts. The setting sun made it impossible for Rory to see her face, but she sounded dubious.
Rory pointed to the swing next to her as she rose into the air. “How long since you’ve been on one of these?”
“Not since elementary school, I guess.” Sarah sat, then pumped her legs once. “Just like riding a bike.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Rory swung higher, until her butt lifted slightly off the seat at the apex of each pass. She looked over to see Sarah grinning widely.
“It really does.”
“That’s what I like about swinging. You have to smile, at least once. No matter what the fuck is going on in your life.” She watched as Sarah leaned back, her face turned up toward the sky. For once, she looked carefree.
“Yeah. I get that.”
They swung for a while in silence. Rory breathed in the crisp November air and felt her stomach settle. Exactly what I needed. “There’s just something peaceful about it,” she said finally.
“Could be the rocking motion. Reminds us of the womb, maybe?”
“There’s a thought.” Rory pumped hard to regain some lost momentum. “But it’s exhilarating, too, you know? When you close your eyes, it almost feels like you’re flying.”
“Whoa, yeah,” Sarah said, a moment later. “That’s cool.”
“Tell me something. If you could have a superpower—any superpower—what would it be?”
Sarah laughed. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy the way your brain jumps from random topic to random topic?”
“No,” Rory said. “And you haven’t answered my question, either.”
“You’re such a taskmaster. And I guess…I think I’d want to be able to heal. Any disease. Be the ultimate doctor.”
Of course you would. Behind her closed eyes, Rory had a sudden glimpse of Sarah as a pediatrician, talking in a gentle voice to an anxious young child. The imagined scene made her stomach feel strange again.
“I think you’d be a very busy lady,” she said, swinging higher in an effort to shake off the odd feeling.
“Well, how about you?’ Sarah challenged. “Oh wait, I know. You’d make movies that could tell the future. Sort of like that painter in Heroes.”
“The one who gets his head ripped open and his brain eaten?” Rory screwed up her face. “Yuck. No thanks!”
“Well, what then?”
“I want the ability to make the world’s best frozen margarita.” But I’ll settle for the power to crack you up.
When Sarah laughed again, Rory was certain that it had been a good idea to show her this place. It had never occurred to her to tell anyone about it before—not even Matt. She tilted her head back and exhaled slowly, watching the naked arms of the surrounding trees sway in the breeze. Somehow, the world made sense when she was here. Wish I could just stay like this forever.
“Do you come here a lot?” Sarah asked, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Once in a while. Mostly when something’s bugging me.” Rory turned her head to meet Sarah’s curious gaze. “Some people go to therapy. I swing.”
“Free, fun, and mildly aerobic.” Sarah grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
Rory looked back up in just enough time to catch the instant when the orange and pink faded from the clouds, rendering them black in a cobalt sky. For some reason, witnessing that moment made her heart thump painfully.
“Do you believe in the soul?”
“Yes. Why?”
Rory could feel Sarah looking at her, but kept her own eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. “This will sound weird, but when I’m swinging, it’s like…I can feel my soul. Actually, honest-to-God feel it sort of burning inside me.”
There was a long moment of silence. Great, Rory thought. Now she thinks I’m really psychotic. Nice job, Song. The disappointment from earlier returned, tenfold. And I was sure she’d under—
“I know what you mean,” Sarah said quietly. “I’ve felt the same thing, sometimes. Mostly it happens to me when I’m out on the water, sailing.” She scuffed her feet along the ground, decreasing her speed. “Never told anybody before, though.”
“Me, neither.” Rory took a deep breath before jumping off her swing. She twisted in midair to face Sarah when she landed. “It’ll be our secret, yeah?”
Sarah nodded as she slowed to a halt. “Okay.” A second later, her stomach growled loudly, breaking the somber mood that had settled over them. “I think my stomach is telling us to get food, posthaste.”
Rory shouldered her bags. “Sounds like.” She turned toward the sidewalk, but paused when she felt Sarah’s hand on her a
rm.
“Thank you for this,” Sarah said. “I have a feeling I’ll be back soon.”
Rory opened her mouth to reply, but the shrill ring of Sarah’s cell phone cut her off.
“It’s Chelsea.” Sarah put the phone to her ear. “Hey. What’s up?” She paused to listen. Rory couldn’t make out any of the words, but Chelsea’s voice had an edge to it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “Didn’t realize. I’ve just been hanging out with Rory. We’re heading to the dining hall now. Want to meet us there?”
Huh. Wonder if she’s jealous. It was an amusing and oddly satisfying thought. Chelsea was a good person, but the way she’d latched on to Sarah was starting to irk Rory. She’s high maintenance, and Sarah’s already got more than enough on her plate. Not for the first time, Rory wondered whether she had done the right thing in pushing that relationship to happen.
“See you soon,” Sarah was saying. “Bye.”
Rory arched an eyebrow. “You in trouble?”
“Apparently I managed to foil her surprise. She’d planned for us to have dinner off campus tonight.” Sarah sounded contrite. “She seemed kind of mad, but how was I supposed to know?”
“And now she has to settle for the decidedly unromantic ambience of Roger Williams.” Rory patted Sarah on the back. “Nice going.”
Sarah looked at her balefully. “I don’t need you laying on the guilt trip, too!”
“Yeah, because you should totally feel guilt over this. You’re her girlfriend, not her Ken doll.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Though come to think of it, you sort of look like Ken—”
“Oh be quiet,” Sarah said, poking Rory just below the ribs.
“Um, news flash: you are the ticklish one. Not me.” When Rory poked her back, Sarah squawked. “Now c’mon, let’s hustle.” Rory picked up her pace, grinning cheekily over her shoulder. “Don’t want to keep Barbie waiting.”
*
Later that night, Sarah opened her door to the sight of Jeff Lee leaning over Rory, while both of them watched something on her computer. She was glad that neither had turned to look at her, because she was sure that her expression was one of shock. What is he doing here?
“I don’t have much so far,” Rory was saying, “but hopefully it’s enough for you to get a feel for the project.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Jeff stood up straight and scrubbed a hand through his short, spiky hair. “You’re going to follow the whole campaign?”
“All the way up to the referendum in April.” Rory looked up at him. “So? What do you say?”
Sarah took off her jacket and moved further into the room. She settled into one beanbag chair with her bio textbook, but couldn’t resist casting furtive glances toward Rory and her crush. Sarah had only seen Jeff from afar, when Rory had pointed him out one day near the beginning of school. He was about her height and was dressed in low-riding jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Excellent!”
Jeff smiled. He had a great smile, Sarah realized. A great smile and really big, expressive eyes. No wonder she’s into him.
“How about I come up with a few possible themes and try them out on you after Thanksgiving? They’ll be really basic, but at least I can get a sense early on of what you’d like.”
“Sounds great,” Rory said. Sarah could tell that she was simultaneously very excited, and trying to keep her cool. It was cute. And for some reason, it made her stomach hurt.
“By the way,” Rory continued, pointing at her, “this is my roommate, Sarah. Sarah, meet Jeff.”
Sarah got up to shake Jeff’s hand. His fingertips were callused—no doubt from hours spent with his violin and guitar. “Good to meet you,” she said.
“Jeff’s just agreed to do the score for my documentary,” Rory said. She turned back toward him. “I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Well hey, it’s not like I’m being totally selfless.” Jeff shrugged on a black jacket and shouldered his bag. “Gets me some publicity, and I might even be able to pitch this as a final project for one of next semester’s courses.”
“Sweet.” Rory got to her feet and stretched. Her shirt rode up, as usual. Sarah thought she might be doing it on purpose this time. Sure enough, she caught Jeff looking at that tantalizing sliver of skin. A wave of pure fury rendered her suddenly breathless.
What the hell? Sarah berated herself, disgusted at her reaction. This is ridiculous. Quit it. She clenched her teeth and focused hard on regaining control of her emotions. They’re talking about school. It’s not like he asked her out on a date or anything. And even if he did…so what? Rory’s straight. And I’m happy with Chelsea.
Oh yeah? her internal skeptic asked snidely. Then why are you still putting her off whenever she wants to have sex?
Sarah gritted her teeth and mentally slapped that annoying voice. I’m just not ready yet. It’s too soon after Dar. That’s all.
Jeff’s “See you later” interrupted her internal debate, and she looked up in time to wave as he headed for the door. When it closed behind him, Rory pumped one fist in the air.
“I cannot believe he said yes!” She paced the length of the room, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “He is so fucking talented. You’ll see. Or, well, you’ll hear. It’s just insane that he’s actually going to do it. Insane.”
Sarah couldn’t have stopped herself from smiling even if she’d wanted to. Rory’s enthusiasm was infectious. “That is so great,” she said. “And I don’t think it’s insane at all. Clearly he wants his music to be associated with a high-quality film.”
Rory frowned at her. “Seriously? You really think?”
“I really know.” Sarah straddled her desk chair and fixed Rory with the most serious look she could muster. “You’re the one who keeps saying how brilliant he is. Seems obvious to me that he can recognize genius, too.”
Rory sat in the other beanbag chair, still beaming. “I hope you’re right,” she said.
“And he’s good-looking,” Sarah prompted. She felt a fierce and sudden need to know whether Rory’s long-carried torch for Jeff was still burning brightly.
“Well, duh.”
Sarah’s stomach lurched. “So you still like him?” She wondered why she was pushing, even as she did.
“Yeah, but it’s completely hopeless,” Rory said. “Utterly and completely. He has no idea I exist, that way.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarah said, remembering how Jeff’s gaze had wandered over Rory’s body. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Rory, probably thinking that she was spouting meaningless platitudes, changed the subject entirely. “Enough about me. How was your meeting?”
Sarah thought for a moment about not letting Rory get away with it, but she didn’t want to risk making her mad. “Same old, same old. We still can’t agree on a color scheme for the decorations.”
“Well, you still have plenty of time. The dance is in February, right?”
Sarah nodded. “And you’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“You should ask Jeff to be your date,” Sarah said, unable to resist the opening. What if it weren’t hopeless, Rory? What then?
Rory looked at her as though she had announced that she were going to start wearing dresses and applying makeup. “What part of ‘completely hopeless’ do you not understand? And besides, I don’t think silly college dances are Jeff’s style.” She batted her eyelashes and smiled too sweetly. “You’re just gonna have to deal with me third-wheeling as always.”
“What? You are not a third wheel.” And if I’ve ever made you feel that way, then I am seriously doing something wrong!
“Hmm,” Rory said, flipping on the television. “So you say. Now shut up and come watch last week’s Bionic Woman with me.”
This time, Sarah let Rory change the subject for good. She stretched out next to her on the floor and pillowed her chin on her ha
nds. “Yes, boss.”
Chapter Eight
Early December
Rory knocked lightly on the door to Professor Danser’s office, and opened it when he told her to come in. She was a little nervous about this interview, since Professor Danser, on the verge of retirement, was probably the most famous member of the English department faculty. Fortunately, she had done well in his introductory theory course last year and was fairly certain that he liked her. He was also, Rory thought, quite possibly the most charming man she had ever met. Tall and slender, impeccably well dressed and sporting a refined British accent, he was sophistication incarnate.
“Hello, Rory,” he said in a deep baritone. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thanks for making time for me, Professor,” Rory said, easing her bags onto the floor across from his desk. “I know you’re busy.”
“Not too busy for a good cause,” he said. “Will that far corner do for your equipment?”
“That’ll be fine.” Rory set to work assembling her camera and tripod, trying desperately to think of small talk. Fortunately, Professor Danser made it easy for her.
“My partner and I have been following Fair Rhode Island’s campaign with a great deal of interest, as you can imagine,” he said. “How did you become involved?”
Rory stifled a smile, wondering if that was Prof D’s roundabout way of asking her if she was queer. “My roommate is the student intern for FRI,” she said. “When she explained their mission to me, I realized that the campaign was the perfect topic for my documentary.”
He nodded and Rory went back to fiddling with the orientation of her camera and thinking of Sarah. As the semester had begun to wind down, they had both become even busier, and Rory missed the days when it had been normal to hang out in the room with Sarah for a few hours every night. Now, she was either studying in the Biology building, studying in the library, or working in the FRI office. What little free time she did have went by default to Chelsea. Not for the first time, a wave of jealousy broke over Rory, causing her hands to fumble at the familiar controls. She bit back a sigh and leaned closer, exasperated at herself for letting their relationship get to her. It was just that for some reason, the more she saw Sarah and Chelsea together, the more she didn’t like Chelsea. Which was strange, because she had considered Chelsea a friend—if not a close friend—for years now.