by Jo Frances
“I probably would have chosen that path---abstinence---as well,” she told him. “Except I fell in love, and it felt like I would be with this person for the rest of my life.” They reached the end of the field and headed towards a path cut among the black oak trees. In hindsight, it all made sense. She had wondered why he hadn’t wanted a sexual relationship, but chalked that up to him wanting to take it slow and a sign that he was thinking long term. Then there were his mysterious absences on Sunday mornings, including when she had spent the weekend at his house in Georgetown. Church, she realized. Adam had been going to church.
“Are you wondering why I’m telling you?” he asked her.
She took his hand. “No, I can figure some things out you know,” she said. “It seems that the people at this wedding will be people who’ve known you a long time, so maybe you wanted to prepare me.”
Adam made a wry face. “They don’t know. I didn’t date that much in boarding school or college, and it was all short term---mostly girls who went to different schools, so you could always say the time or the place wasn’t right. And if everyone assumes you’re having sex, then you don’t even have to make up excuses. But I did want to tell you because I think---I hope--we can last, and I want to know if it’s going to be an issue for you.”
As Jamie started to reassure him, Adam interrupted her. “There’s only two other women I’ve told before. And they all said the same thing: it’s fine, they don’t care, etc. But then it became like a challenge for them, because they figure out that if we have sex, then it means a shortcut to an engagement. Or, they’re fine waiting if I tell them we’re going to get married. But what if I like them enough to date for the next six months or a year, but I know it will never turn into anything more? Then it means they’re going to spend the next year wasting their time. And for a woman in her twenties, that’s just too long.” He took a deep breath. “I have a lot of plans, Jamie, most of them political.” The rest of his thought went unsaid so Jamie finished it for him.
“And you’re not sure if those plans include me.”
Adam turned and looked into Jamie’s eyes. “I really hope it does. But I care enough about you not to lie to keep you here. I want you to know everything. And then decide.”
“Well, Mr. Bixby,” she said as she stepped closer to him. “I’m only 21, so I am definitely not looking for marriage. And as for that other stuff,” Adam stopped her with a kiss. “I think we each have our reasons for being in a non-sexual relationship, so I guess that works out perfectly.”
“Wait!” Adam pretended to panic. “Just because we’re not having intercourse doesn’t mean I want to have a non-sexual relationship. Let’s make that perfectly clear,” he said with a smile.
“Well, now.” Jamie teased him right back. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”
They were on the crest of a hill now, and could see the house and surrounding road below. A mini-bus approached from a distance, drawing a cloud of dust in its wake. Adam chuckled at the sight. “That’s probably all the people coming from back East. It would be just like Erica to charter a bus to pick them up from the airport.”
A thought occurred to him and he turned back to her, confused. “I don’t want to seem insecure here, but why are you OK with not having sex?”
Jamie began to tell him about the last guy she had gone out with when she and Chase had a short-lived breakup, when Adam gently held up a hand to stop her. “Jamie, you are probably the only girl in the world who can refer to the lead singer for Isle as ‘this guy, Sean’,” he said. “Baby, I may live in the DC bubble, but believe me, that relationship was well known to anyone who ever stood in line to buy groceries. And now I know you’re also probably the only girl in the world who didn’t have a medical reason not to sleep with him.”
Jamie blushed. “Well, any-way. I just didn’t want to be like some of my friends. Like, they waited a long time to be with the first guy, but then they waited less and less with each guy, until the same girl who made her first boyfriend wait all through high school to be with her was the one who was hooking up with random guys in her dorm room by our sophomore year.” She looked at Adam; he was focused intently on what she was saying. “So maybe I’ll wait for marriage too. It’s not just the first time that should be meant for someone you really care about. It’s still the same body; your body, that you’re giving to someone, isn’t it?”
The last sentence made her blush even more as she thought about just how much Chase had taken and explored every inch of her.
Thankfully, Adam was looking off in the distance. “How did you know all this, though?” he asked. “I mean, I do it because of my faith---”
“To be honest, it wasn’t until I almost slept with Sean. I had the same mindset as everyone else. Even though a little voice inside me said I wasn’t ready, I just thought there was no reason to wait anymore. Fortunately,” and she looked at him to see if he would flinch at the details, “he was too drunk one night, and didn’t have a condom another night. I’m a little slow, but when I realized I felt relieved I wouldn’t have to sleep with him… well that was kind of a wake up call.”
What Jamie left out was the most important thing: that sex with anyone except Chase felt wrong, and still felt wrong even today. But she saw from his expression that Adam knew what was in her heart.
They began to hear voices coming from the house---a sign that the other guests had unpacked and were getting ready for dinner. Reluctant to go, Adam turned to Jamie one last time before they headed back. “I’ve told you what I wanted,” he said, hurt. “but maybe you should figure out what you want, too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jamie
You should figure out what you want, too.
Days later, Adam’s words continued to haunt her. Because as much as she tried to spin and think her way out of it, the answer to the question of what she wanted was simple: she wanted Chase.
It wasn’t really that simple of course, and she envied Adam for being able to think about the world in such black and white terms. Yet she understood because the two of them were raised with the unshakeable belief that if you wanted something badly enough, you just worked towards it, and it would be yours. This was probably true in school, or even in your career. But in matters of the heart, wanting something, or someone was only half of the equation.
In the end, the solution to her problem came from her eighty-five year old grandmother’s housewarming gift, and it was fitting that it was a prayer. Brooding on the kitchen counter, her eye fell on the framed, well worn, hand-embroidered cloth that had hung in her grandmother’s kitchen since Gloria Cameron was a young bride:
The Serenity Prayer
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change,
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Jamie touched the frame lightly as if she could derive some comfort from her grandmother there. It was old-fashioned and from another era. But somehow, it gave her the answer she was looking for.
Chase walking out of her life was a fact. Should she accept it, or did she have the courage to try to change that fact? Jamie remembered when Chase had swallowed his pride to come after her. Now it was her turn.
Chapter Fourteen
Chase
Chase’s new life in Spain was exactly what he needed. Professionally, he was wildly popular: FC Madrid’s ticket sales increased by 40%, as both homesick ex-pats and Europeans curious about how their native sons compared to a top NBA draft pick began coming to the games. The sports arena took on a vibrant energy as a young international crowd cheered lustily at every blocked shot, every alley-oop that Chase slammed down.
On a personal level, Chase had never felt more free. He didn’t have the pressure of trying to live up to an image, or of trying to change his image. He also didn’t have to make the adjus
tments that came with being in the public eye. In Spain he was famous for being a basketball player, which meant that he wasn’t very famous at all---it was the footballers who got the attention. In the United States he had been famous for who he dated and for his legal problems.
He got to travel all over Europe with the team, and Chase discovered a side of him he never would have imagined. He became the one who’d research interesting places for the team to see, and the one who pushed them out into the cities, instead of ordering room service for dinner. The Spaniards nicknamed him, “Turista” but the Americans, bested that by coming up with “Dora, Dora, la Exploradora”. It took some explaining, and a few YouTube clips, but associating Chase with a little girl carrying a backpack was a more demeaning insult, so the nickname Dora stuck. Chase laughed it off---as a rookie, he had to carry a Dora backpack to all the games as a part of the hazing ritual. He even dug up pictures of him getting off the team bus dressed in his baller best, with a tiny pink backpack slung across his broad shoulders. The fact that he could make fun of himself won over his teammates and they soon accepted him as one of them.
But another reason he was happy was his friendship with the Betancourt’s. It turned out Liam was not the only one in the family who was a basketball fan. As the success of the team grew, Rodrigo decided to become more involved, and moved his wife and child from New York to Madrid for the rest of the season. They invited Chase over for dinner when they first arrived, but that soon turned into a once a week, then twice a week standing invitation, until eventually, he was at their home almost as much as his own.
For Chase, it was the first time he was exposed to a lifestyle that not even the highest paid players could achieve. The Betancourt family didn’t just have nice houses; they lived in ‘palacios’ from the 17th century, and villas. They didn’t just earn a lot of money: they owned business and teams. Yet what impressed him most was how modest they were. They would go to his games, and to the untrained eye, there was nothing that would have set them apart from anyone else in the audience. Except Rodrigo’s custom-made navy blue sport coat fit him perfectly, and Shelby’s tennis bracelet was made up of small but flawless diamonds worth the price of a luxury car. With a stab of embarrassment, Chase remembered how his mother would attend his games toting the biggest designer bag, the most oversized cocktail rings and as many logos as she could wear. Without even being aware of it, he began to absorb the classic understated fashion style of Rodrigo and some of his European teammates and found he liked the way he looked.
During a rare four day break for the team, Shelby and Rodrigo invited him to go with them to Ibiza. “Have you ever been?” asked Shelby, her eyes twinkling. When Chase said no, she practically clapped her hands in delight. “You’re in for a treat,” she told him. “We try to go at least once a year---”
“---and we don’t bring Liam,” Rodrigo added with a wink at his wife. “We trade with my parents. They get to have Liam and we get to have their house. Things are a little different for us than when we were first married---”
“He’s been partying at those clubs since he was a teenager, Chase, so I’m sure things are really different for my husband,” cut in Shelby.
Rodrigo’s dreamy smile told them both everything they needed to know. It was a testament to their marriage, and to Shelby’s confidence that she only rolled her eyes at him as if he were a misbehaving child. “Ah, yes,” Rodrigo continued, “you have no such restrictions, Chase, so you should have a very nice time indeed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Chase
From the time their private plane coasted slowly past the numerous large yachts that made the azure blue sea look like a parking lot, Chase knew he was going to have the time of his life. The people in their party were very similar in age and outlook to his hosts. They were mostly Europeans, but even the Americans seemed European, they were so lacking in the inflections and mannerisms of their countrymen. Chase realized that Amy Weatherby would not have fit in with the women Shelby invited---these invitees were her real friends, and the people he met during that dinner party with Amy were probably more like acquaintances. Amy may have been using Shelby to social-climb, but obviously Shelby knew that. His admiration increased for Shelby as he realized that she had such perfect manners that nothing she said or did would have indicated Amy was not a “dear friend”. But now, surrounded by people she obviously trusted, Chase could see the difference. He wondered how he fit in with this group, and his insecurities about being the poor kid raised by a single mom in a tiny Tallahassee apartment bubbled up.
But then, with a lot of effort, he had to tell himself that he wasn’t that kid anymore. He wasn’t poor any longer either, although, as the iron gates swung open in the Betancourt’s villa, it was hard to not feel at least a little disadvantaged.
“Is this a hotel?” he asked half jokingly. The house looked vaguely familiar, and Chase realized that in the red tile roof, the bougainvilleas growing against a bleached white wall, and tiled courtyard, he was seeing the inspiration for the Spanish-style houses all over California. Including his own. Chase put his bags down for a minute as a wave of homesickness swept over him. As he struggled to keep his emotions in check, he had to laugh at the irony that the sight of a fucking flower that would cause him to want to cry like a little girl.
Rodrigo hurried over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Chase? Is everything alright?” He looked with concern at what Chase had been looking at. “Did you see something wrong?”
The rest of the guests were discreetly ushered in by Shelby and they were alone in the enclosed driveway, silent except for the sound of pounding surf from the beach below. “No---” Chase began. How could he explain missing a house? Longing to walk into his home; a home that comforted the child inside him? He decided to be honest. “This house reminds me of the house I bought back in L.A.,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a shack compared to this. But---”
Rodrigo put an arm on his back. “Of course! California was a Spanish colony until the 19th century,” he said as if that explained everything. Chase straightened up and forced a weak smile.
“Do you miss California that much, Chase?” Rodrigo asked kindly.
After a moment’s thought, Chase shook his head. “No, not that much. I really like it here. It’s my home I miss.”
Rodrigo looked at him, and it occurred to Chase that Madrid FC would have done a background check before giving him a contract, so Rodrigo had to know all about his past. Which he confirmed with two words: “I understand.”
This time Chase’s smile was genuine as he followed Rodrigo into the cool shade of his home. Shelby was waiting inside the foyer, ready as always to erase any feelings of awkwardness he may have. “Chase!” she playfully scolded him. “Hurry up and change. Claudia has made us a fantastic lunch. Beno will set it up so we’ll eat al fresco by the pool, take a nap and then we’ll head down to the beach when it gets dark.”
Chase saluted. “Yes sir---I mean ma’am,” he said. Shelby hooked her arm around his and patted his arm as if comforting her own son.
Throughout their lunch, mischievous looks were exchanged between the guests whenever they talked about Ibiza nightlife. They compared the benefits of one club over another, mostly in terms of who the clientele were. Texts came in from friends staying in other villas about who was ‘in town’. Meanwhile, Chase figured out that Claudia was the housekeeper, and her husband was Beno the groundskeeper. Dex (for Dexter) and Lex (for Alexa) were an American-British couple, and Tomas and Lotte were German, and Shelby’s cousin Frances was there with her Greek husband Dominic.
It was hard not to feel like a fifth wheel, but Chase was comfortable enough to dive into the pool for a few minutes then plop on a nearby lounge chair and allow the conversation to wash over him like a lullaby. He woke up at the sound of Claudia clearing away the plates and discovered that everyone else had gone inside. Dusk had falle
n, and he could see inside the brightly lit home as they got ready in their rooms. He lay back on the chair feeling very much like the spoiled younger brother. Chase had been wise enough to choose his friends carefully, but he always knew that because of basketball, he was the one who was the most popular, or the most well-known, then eventually, the one who had the most money. And there was always that little nagging voice inside his head that wondered if these people would like him just as much if he were… ordinary.
In this crowd, he was none of those things. He had nothing to offer that they didn’t have ten times over---except himself, and that was enough for them. It was the best feeling in the world, and he had an impulse to raise his arms in triumph and shout, “I’m free!”
The feeling continued as they drove down from their hilltop perch through the narrow road and into town. From a quarter mile down the road Chase could hear the synth of disco music, and from several yards away from their first club, he could feel the bass from the speakers. He was dressed in a light blue fitted tee shirt and baggy white linen shorts---Shelby had bought Rodrigo a pair of shorts from a tiny boutique in town and picked up a pair for him as well. The fitted tee shirt was a gift from Jamie months before. “I got it in Milan; all the guys are wearing this style!” she had told him. He looked at it as if it were poisonous. “This is a chick’s shirt, Jamie. It’s like, super fitted.” And he put it away in a drawer.
Yet he brought it from LA to New York, and from New York to Spain where it didn’t look out of place at all. Now with the shorts, he looked as if he could blend right in with the bouncing, thumping mess of humanity dancing with abandon on the dance floor. Dex nudged him with his shoulder. “Go on, then,” he told him. “Us old folks are going for our own fun. You’ll find your way back tomorrow.” Chase looked back once to see Shelby blowing a kiss to him as she and Rodrigo wrapped their arms around each and disappeared into the club.
