Getaway - SF7

by Meagher, Susan X

  Ryan shot a warning glance and a quick headshake at Jamie, who was about to get to her feet. Taking a deep breath, Ryan looked up at the shaking woman and calmly asked, "How old is your son?"

  That question threw her for such a loop that she had to respond civilly. She shot a glance at the table she had come from, briefly glancing at her son and husband, both of whom looked like they wanted to dig a hole and hide. "H...he’s six," she stuttered.

  "And you honestly think the sight of two people expressing their love in a discreet fashion will scar him?" Ryan asked slowly. "I guarantee he didn’t notice anything until you pointed it out."

  "That’s not the point!" she yelled loud enough to cause all of the other diners to turn towards them.

  "Sure it is," Ryan said very calmly. "He’s probably in much more peril from your anger and your hatred of difference than he is from watching people be loving towards one another."

  "What you do is sick!" she spat from a few inches in front of Ryan’s face.

  "Are you a Christian?" Ryan asked, again out of left field.

  "Yes, I fear the Lord," she replied haughtily, wielding her faith like a truncheon.

  Ryan nodded, drew in a breath and spoke calmly. "I’m no biblical scholar, but I’m sure of one thing. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love one another as he loves us." She looked up at the woman and waited for her to disagree. When she received nothing more than a beady-eyed stare she continued. "I’m sure he didn’t mean that you have to like what everyone does, but I am sure he meant you need to love and accept other people, even when you disagree with them." Ryan’s eyes narrowed and she allowed some of her anger to show. "If you were really a Christian, you would have approached my family in a much more loving way. I don’t for a minute wish to influence your family with my morals, but I would appreciate it if you don’t infect mine with your hatred."

  Her anger locked back in place, she gazed up at the woman with a look of total peace and self-assurance, her posture relaxed and open.

  Jamie wasn’t sure if the woman’s blood pressure could withstand the assault. Her face grew even redder as she searched her mind for some comeback--finally throwing her trump card. "Lesbians!" She turned and stalked back to her young son slumping down in his chair and her blank looking husband. Grabbing the boy by the shirt she yanked him to his feet and strode from the eating area, her meek husband following along behind.

  Ryan shook her head once as she cut another piece of chicken and offered it up to Caitlin with a smile. The baby had been watching the entire interchange with a concerned look, but she began to smile again as Ryan did. Casting a quick glance at Catherine’s horrorstricken face, Ryan gently asked, "Let’s talk about this when Caitlin’s down for her nap, okay? I know that was upsetting for you, but I don’t want her to pick up on that."

  Catherine bit her lip as she quickly gave Ryan a small nod and an even smaller smile. Ryan patted her back and flashed her a grin as she stood, grasping Caitlin in a warm hug and kissing her thoroughly, then she bent and gave her partner a gentle kiss, not willing to let a stranger make her uncomfortable being herself.

  45 minutes later they were sitting in their living room with the diaper clad baby. Ryan had spread out a blanket on the floor, and she commenced to place the child in a variety of poses, urging her small muscles to support the growing body in some new ways.

  "I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone make a baby exercise before, Ryan," Catherine joked. "Does she belong to a health club?"

  "Yep. Cousin Ryan’s Private Fitness Training," she smirked. "She’s the only member."

  "Is that really necessary?" Catherine asked. "I’m sure we didn’t do any such thing for Jamie."

  "Well, that explains it," Ryan teased, getting a gentle kick to the ribs from her partner. Answering seriously she said, "I don’t think it’s a big deal, to be honest, but I want Caitlin to trust her body and know her capabilities. Getting her used to her muscles and putting some gentle stress on her tendons and bones seems like a good first step."

  When the exercise session was finished, Ryan placed the baby on a towel that she had spread out on the sofa and warmed some massage lotion in her hands. Catherine watched in awe as Ryan gave her little cousin a thoroughly relaxing massage, working on her tiny back and all four of her little limbs for a long while. Finally she asked, "Do you massage her often, Ryan?"

  "Yeah, I do, every chance I get. It makes me feel really connected to touch people so intimately."

  Catherine just shook her head and smiled at the young woman who was so effortlessly working her way into her heart.

  After placing Caitlin in her crib, Ryan came back into the sitting room and grabbed a seat on the sofa. They sat, sipping bottled water from the mini-bar until Jamie got up from her chair and went over to sit on Ryan’s lap.

  "I need a hug," she admitted as Ryan welcomed her. "That incident really upset me."

  "Even though you handled it beautifully, Ryan, I’ve got to admit that it frightened me terribly," Catherine agreed.

  The older woman’s face showed her concern, and Ryan decided that they needed to broach the upsetting topic. "Tell me what frightened you, Catherine."

  She sat in silence for a moment, trying to put words to her feelings. "I suppose it just made we wish that you didn’t have to go through things like that," she said.

  "Of course you do," Ryan agreed. "No one would want their child to be harassed like that." Pausing quietly, Ryan asked the follow-up question. "Does it make you wish that Jamie was straight?"

  Catherine looked up in shock, feeling that Ryan was reading her mind. She was mightily embarrassed, wishing fervently that she didn’t feel that way—but she did, and it was obvious that Ryan sensed it. Nodding her head slowly, a flush traveling up her cheeks, she admitted that was exactly what she felt.

  Ryan gazed at her for a moment, then asked quietly, "Do you ever wish that Jamie was poor, or homely or slow-witted?"

  Catherine looked baffled as she admitted, "No, of course not. But I don’t see the analogy."

  "I guarantee that if you told a group of people how much money you had, a significant number of them would automatically dislike you because of it. I guarantee that a decent number of people dislike Jamie because of her beauty and her intelligence. But I’m certain that you don’t want her to give up those things to please other people. Why not?" she asked calmly.

  "Because…" she started, but quickly realizing where her mouth was leading her, she firmly clamped her jaw shut.

  "Catherine," Ryan began, "please believe that I say this with love. If you want Jamie to change an elemental part of herself to please others, you must believe that it is a part that should be changed. You must believe that it is a part that you want to change. Otherwise the wishes of others would seem like what they are—jealousy or ignorance or intolerance."

  She gazed at Ryan for a long minute, finally closing her eyes with a sigh. "I don’t believe that’s true. I just don’t want her to be hurt. It hurt so badly to see the look on Jamie's face when that woman started to berate you, Ryan. Why is it wrong to want to spare her from that?" she asked rather helplessly.

  "It’s not wrong," Ryan reassured her with a gentle smile. "It’s every mother’s wish to spare her child pain. The difference is that you have a small desire to want to change Jamie to spare her the pain of other people’s reactions. What you don’t take into account is that that would cause her so much more pain, Catherine. She is who she is, and trying to be something else is a waste of her gifts. I think you’d have much more peace if you focused on the people who cause her pain, rather than wishing she were different."

  "How do I do that?" she asked tentatively.

  "Take that woman today," Ryan advised. "There are really only three options when you have a situation like that. You can be angry and lash out at her in retaliation, you can see that Jamie stands out in a crowd and be a little angry with Jamie because of it, or you can put the blame where I think it bel
ongs—on people who spout self-righteous nonsense!"

  Catherine nodded, recognizing the logic of Ryan’s words even though she wasn’t able to fully let them into her heart.

  Ryan continued, "When I refuse to let people influence how I feel about myself, I’m able to view them with a certain degree of compassion. Can you imagine how horrible it must be to be so filled with rage that you lash out at perfect strangers because they are doing something that bothers you?"

  Catherine let her frustration show, looking over at Ryan with wide eyes. "But how do you not let it affect you? She was right in your face saying the most horrible things to you!"

  "It doesn’t affect me because I’m comfortable with who I am," she explained patiently. "I truly believe that my lesbianism is a gift from God. I honestly thank God for making me who I am, Catherine. That doesn’t mean I’m perfect--far from it. But I’m the person that God made, and I will not second-guess my maker!"

  Jamie had been remarkably silent through this whole interchange. She knew that Ryan was on a roll and that her partner was very adept at expressing their mutual feelings on the issue. She also thought that her mother might fare better discussing this with Ryan than with her, perhaps feeling less emotion when discussing it with a third party. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but tighten her hold on her partner, giving her unspoken encouragement for the fine job she was doing.

  Catherine was quiet for a few minutes, obviously trying to absorb everything the dark woman had said. Finally, she was ready to discuss how to proceed, and she asked, "So what do I do if you’re right? How do I learn to look at this as a gift rather than something I want to change?"

  Ryan gave her a wide smile, thinking once again how lucky she was to have this woman for a motherin-law. "The mere fact that you ask the question provides the answer. If you’re open to accepting Jamie for who she is, you will do so over time. You just need to spend time with her and slowly you’ll become more comfortable." She brightened her smile, locking eyes with Catherine as she said, "I don’t think you have a long way to go, Catherine. I’ve got very good radar when it comes to gay bias, and I don’t detect any from you. I think you just need a little time to be able to embrace all of Jamie."

  Catherine looked up at her daughter, who rested comfortably in Ryan’s lap. "You’ve been awfully quiet, Honey. How does all of this affect you?"

  "Well," she said, "I’m not at the same place Ryan is on this. My first instinct was to hop up and knock that woman’s block off!" she admitted with a chagrined smirk. "But I’m getting a lot better at not letting things like this get past my defenses. It helps to live with Gandhi here," she teased, giving her partner a little tickle.

  Catherine cocked her head at her daughter, asking the question that had been niggling at the back of her brain, "Does it bother you to think I might have some wish that you were different?"

  "No, Mom, it really doesn’t. You treat both of us very well and you act very comfortable around us. I would just like you to get more comfortable for yourself."

  "So we’re doing okay?" she asked hopefully.

  "We’re doing great!" she assured her as she slid off Ryan’s lap and sat down on the arm of her mother’s chair.

  "I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me, Jamie," she said softly.

  "Mom, I had quite a long period where I fought with my own instincts over this. I knew that I was gay, but I tried everything possible, including a reconciliation with Jack, just so I didn’t have to face it. This is hard to get used to, for both of us, but you’re doing a fantastic job! I’m happier with our relationship than I have ever been," she said as she enveloped her in a robust hug.

  "I am too," Catherine replied softly as a tear escaped from her dark brown eyes.

  The insistent beep of her pager caught Ryan’s attention and she tracked the device down in their bedroom. "Hmm," she muttered, looking at the number in the display. "That’s one of the numbers at school." She fished her wallet out of her back pocket, looking for her calling card.

  "Just use the phone, Honey," Jamie insisted. "It’s okay."

  Ryan shrugged and sat down to dial the number. "Hi, this is Ryan O’Flaherty," she announced when the phone was answered with, "Rich Placer’s office."

  "Oh, hello, Ryan, Coach Placer asked me to call you to let you know that he’s had to cancel practice for the rest of the week. He said the next practices will be Monday at ten and four."

  "Ohh…okay," she said, puzzled by this development. Remembering her manners, she asked, "Coach is okay, isn’t he?"

  "Oh yes. There have been some delays in getting the court ready, so there isn’t any place to meet this week. That’s why he’s going to institute double practices next week."

  "Oh goody," Ryan said unenthusiastically, remembering how drained the two-a-days in Santa Cruz had left her.

  "I’ll give him the message," the woman said, chuckling a little as she hung up.

  "Trouble?" Jamie asked, making eye contact with her partner.

  "Not really," Ryan informed her. She paused for a moment and said, "Actually, I guess it was good news. I have the rest of the week off. We don’t start practice until Monday."

  "Cool! Can we stay later tomorrow, Mom?"

  "Sure. I don’t have any need to hurry home. We can stay another night if you wish."

  "Mmm…I think Caitlin might be ready to head home tomorrow," Ryan decided. "Besides, we’ll be out of milk by then, and she will not like switching to formula."

  "But is it okay if we leave late in the day?" Jamie persisted.

  "Yep. We’ve got five bottles left. That will get us through dinner tomorrow."

  "Cool," Jamie cried, obviously not in the mood to leave their playground. "I’ll get on the phone and see if we can change our flight."

  After Caitlin woke from her nap Ryan changed her and brought her in to sit with the grownups while she acclimated. She cuddled up in a little ball as she sank against Ryan’s chest with a contented sigh, still halfway between wakefulness and slumber. Catherine shared an affectionate smile with her daughter as they watched Ryan comfort and coo to the small child.

  "She does have a certain presence," mother observed to daughter, shaking her head in wonder.

  "More like a gravitational pull," Jamie corrected her as she walked over to the chair and struggled to find room to share. Ryan gladly shifted a little to allow her partner to climb aboard, and the three of them shared a warm group hug for a few minutes. "Sing her favorite song, Honey," Jamie urged, always loving to hear her partner’s voice.

  Ryan grinned at her, knowing she was being set up, but not caring a bit. She cuddled the baby close to her chest so she could feel the vibrations of the music through her body. She usually sang the song with a great deal of vigor, but she wanted Caitlin to wake slowly, so she softened her voice and sang it with a slow, gentle beat.

  Oh! My boat can safely float in the teeth of wind and weather

  And outrace the fastest hooker between Galway and Kinsale;

  When the black floor of the ocean and the white foam rush together,

  High she rides, in her pride, like a sea gull through the gale.

  Oh she's neat! Oh she's sweet! She's a beauty in ev'ry line!

  The Queen of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine.

  When she's loaded down with fish till the water lips the gunwale,

  Not a drop she'll take on board her that would wash a fly away;

  From the fleet she'll slip out swiftly like a greyhound from her kennel,

  And she'll land her silver store the first at ould Kinvara quay.

  Oh she’s neat! Oh she’s sweet! She’s a beauty in ev’ry line!

  The Queen of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine.

  There's a light shines out afar, and it keeps me from dismaying

  When the skies are ink above us and the sea runs white with foam,

  In a cot in Connemara there's a wife and wee one praying

  To the One who walked th
e waters once, to send us safely home.

  Oh she’s neat! Oh she’s sweet! She’s a beauty in ev’ry line!

  The Queen of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine.

  The baby’s small body rocked in time to the music, her little foot rapping against Ryan’s leg. She had a dreamy expression on her small face and her eyes were largely unfocused, seemingly transported to some distant place by the deep melodic voice and the warm hug she was wrapped in.

  Catherine watched transfixed as the family-of-choice snuggled together, their bodies molded together as if they shared the same skin. Once again, deep pangs of regret washed over her for missing out on moments like this, but she did her best to keep her promise and focus on the present and the future. "You have a beautiful voice," she said softly, not wanting to disturb the trance that Caitlin seemed to have fallen into.

  "Thanks," Ryan said, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. "My grandfather used to sing that song to me when we went out on his boat." She laughed softly and said, "I have dozens of songs that I remember singing with him when I was small, but nearly every one ends with the sailor being lost at sea, and his wife standing at the shore cursing the waves."

  Blinking slowly, Catherine asked, "Why were the songs so sad?"

  "That’s just the way people experienced life," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "The ocean is a dangerous place."

  "My father was a sailor too," Catherine said, a look of infinite sadness stealing over her features.

  Ryan gazed at her quietly for a moment and said, "I guess you could technically call my grandfather a sailor, but I think of him as a fisherman."

  "Ahh," Catherine said, recognizing the difference. "He made his living that way?"

  "Yes. I’m not sure how many generations of Ryans have made their living on the sea, but it’s more than a few." She gave Catherine a small smile and said, "I suppose the tradition will die with my grandfather."

  "That’s rather sad," Catherine said.