Imaginary Lines

by Allison Parr

  “Yes.”

  I looked back through the windshield at the globes of color against the endless rolling white. Today, bright blue domed the world, streaked with faraway clouds empty of color. “I hope you brought me here to watch the incredibly dramatic liftoff from our safe location here on the ground.”

  He reached out to caress my cheek, but in a fit of pique, I turned my head away. Still, there was no avoiding the warmth and conviction in his voice. “You are the most courageous person I know. What can possibly scare you?”

  I frowned. “I don’t think I’m brave.”

  “You published an article that exposed the truth even though you knew what it would put you through.”

  “That wasn’t courage through bravery, but through necessity.”

  “They’re the same thing.”

  “Well, there’s nothing necessary about this. What’s the point?”

  “To prove you can.”

  “And if I don’t feel the need to prove anything?”

  His gaze softened, and his fingers laced through mine. My heart thumped loudly. “Do you remember our vacation to Seattle when we were fifteen?”

  Of course. Camping, with one day in the city. “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember how all of us went up the Space Needle, and you waited at the bottom?”

  Just the memory made me feel like a pathetic failure. “Yes.”

  His eyes seared mine. “I remember your face when we came back down. You were so wistful. You wanted to come up there with us. Why didn’t you?”

  “I just don’t, okay? And it’s not something that can be magically fixed. I don’t even see what the big deal is. It doesn’t constrain my life.”

  He leaned closer to me. “Who cares about organizations and battles and money and pride? That is all so little. It’s not the world.”

  “And you think I can only know that by flying up away from all safety?”

  He smiled his slow smile, the one that seduced me to his will. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Ha!” I pointed a finger at him rudely. “I’m on to you. You can’t turn this into a living metaphor about trust. I do trust you. However, you’re not the engineer. Or nature. So my trust will not keep that machine of death aloft.”

  “Tell me you’re not interested. Tell me you don’t want to soar through the skies. Tell me you’re not tired of being afraid, and we’ll go to Christopher’s, ten minutes away. I got us reservations.”

  It was the reservations that got to me. “You didn’t think I’d be able to do it?”

  He met my gaze. “I don’t ever want you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. You know I’m not comfortable doing this.”

  He shrugged. “I also know that when we had to do reports on quotes by famous people, you did the Eleanor Roosevelt one.”

  And of course I instantly knew exactly which one he meant. Do one thing every day that scares you. It was right up there with my favorite quotes, along with If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. That used to hang in my history teacher’s classroom in eleventh grade, and I hated it because it made me feel guilty.

  Which was why I remembered both those quotes, I supposed. They made me uncomfortable. They motivated. They made me want to be a better person—both for other people, and for myself.

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  Lake George was actually known as a ballooning destination, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Clearly plenty of people came here to ride through the sky; even today, in the midst of winter, crowds crossed over the fields, conversing and laughing in puffy coats. But Abe had hired us our own private balloon.

  It was enormous, and just viewing the size made my feet flood with fear like the land had already fallen away. But the colors made me laugh, the vivid crimson that darkened Abe’s helmet, the lines of black and streaks of gold. “I hope you didn’t commission an entire balloon on the off chance I would say yes.”

  “I didn’t think it was an off chance.”

  The balloonist’s name was Henry, and he was a solid-looking man in his forties, with deep brown eyes like the earth and a smile like the sun.

  I stepped into the small basket and my pulse immediately ratcheted up.

  The land dropped away below us, and it became more difficult to breathe.

  I wrapped my arms around Abe, clinging to him. We were going to die; I was sure of it. If people were supposed to leave the land, we would have evolved with wings. Oh, God. Oh, God, what was I doing?

  I buried my face in Abe’s chest. His mouth came down to my ear, and his words came out worried. “Are you okay?” He smoothed one hand over my hair.

  My words were muffled against him. “I give us ten seconds to live.” I lifted my eyes the smallest bit so that I could glare at him.

  But then I caught sight of something behind him.

  The land sprawled out beneath us, rolling hills and snaking lakes. I caught my breath. The trees were green gilded with white, the water lightly frosted with sheets of ice. Snow blanketed the landscape, matched by the white clouds that drifted through the bright blue sky above us. I was drifting through a snow globe.

  I started laughing. I’d done it. I was here. I was as proud of myself as though I’d sprouted wings or engineered the balloon myself. I’d made it. I was in the air. Below me, the patchwork world spread out in greens and whites. I hugged Abe tightly, and then pulled away and leaned toward the basket’s ledge.

  It wasn’t anything silly, like that my fear of heights had magically been cured. No, my feet still tingled like crazy, the sparks wrapping all up my calves. But I wasn’t ignoring them. I wasn’t trying to smother them. I was reveling. “I did it!”

  “Hey there.” Humor laced his voice, and warmth enveloped me as his arms went around my shoulders. “Careful.”

  I twisted around to see him. “Abe! I’m flying. We’re flying.” Wonder filled my voice, my entire being. “This is amazing!”

  “It’s—”

  But I didn’t wait for him to finish that sentence. Instead, I turned and curled my hands in his lapels and pulled him forward, kissing him for all my worth.

  For half a heartbeat, Abe was surprised, but then he curved one hand behind my back and bent me slightly, deepening the kiss until we weren’t just breathless from height and air. Not only my feet tingled, but my whole body, and now it felt good and right. I pulled back slightly and rubbed his cold red nose with mine. “Abraham. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  I beamed at him. He was right. Everything else was little and small here amongst the clouds and wind, where the only thing that mattered was him and me, me and him, and how much we loved each other.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  But after New Year’s, we had to return home and face reality.

  If I’d thought America’s collective consciousness would have forgotten us over the holidays, I’d been mistaken. If anything, the interest had festered as people talked it over with family members, spreading the story like a disease across the country as travelers gossiped and moved and spawned new stories of how awful I was.

  Worst, football fever had hit its high point. The playoffs had arrived; the AFC Wildcard Round would be held this Saturday. The Leopards would be playing against the Patriots in the Divisional Round in a week. Not Abe, of course, since he was done for the season. But it would definitely keep him in the spotlight.

  And if the Leopards made it to the Super Bowl in the first week of February, he and my story were unlikely to leave that hot glow of attention anytime in the coming months.

  More networks had picked up my story, and enough people were asking questions that in the second week of January, as the world iced over and snow filled the city, the commissioner of the National Football League called a press conference.

  * * *

  That night, snow fell. The lack of wind meant it drifted down peacefully,
large, cartwheelings shards of ice that blanketed the world. Everything seemed whitened—the sky, the ground, the air. A pervasive silence filled the city, calming to my ears. It was the sound of peace.

  It reigned everywhere except inside me.

  I expected to be locked out of the press conference, but to my surprise Tanya said no one was being blocked. Interest of transparency and all that, I supposed.

  Nervous energy flowed through me as we stepped into the hall. I’d downed two coffees, which had been a bad idea, and now I was so wired that my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I kept my body perfectly controlled, though, scared that if I relaxed even the slightest bit I’d be unable to restrain myself.

  I wished Abe could be next to me, but he couldn’t, of course. He’d be up on stage, given that he was one of the key players in the whole thing, and currently one of the most visible Leopards. Instead, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guys, and their support did wonders to calm my breathing.

  The lights flickered. A level voice came on through the loudspeakers: “The conference will be starting in two minutes.”

  The journalists’ burble of conversation continued straight up until the two-minute mark, and then vanished in a splash of silence.

  Gregory Philip strode out on stage, followed by Coach Paglio and the Leopards’ general manager.

  And Abraham.

  That cut straight through me. I’d known he wouldn’t be able to make any public stand with me, but it hurt to see him visibly on Philip’s side. I was sure he’d been pressured, though, that he’d been forced to preserve his career, but it still hurt.

  While I saw him right away, he didn’t find me until a murmur circulated the room, and the people closest to me stepped away as everyone else pushed closer for a better look. Abe had only to follow the direction of the stir, and then his gaze connected with mine.

  Philip stepped up to the microphone.

  His speech was short and sweet. It lay out in no uncertain terms that the Leopards and Loft Athletics would be going forward with their training facility, and that there was no truth to any of the statements put forward in the article by one Tamar Rosenfeld. They were, of course, conducting an interior investigation into all athletic gear, but so far nothing negative had been found.

  “And I believe that is all we have to say.” Gregory Philip stepped back, smiling that smooth and oily smile of his.

  Behind him, Abraham raised his head, solemn and unmoving. “That is not all.”

  Every player—like every team, every season—has a narrative. Abe’s centered on his amiability. Everyone liked Abe. Easygoing Ave. Good-natured Abe. Never one to get riled up or crash a car or flip a reporter off. Never all over the whole kill-your-enemies-before-they-take-your-women pregame diatribe. He was levelheaded. Well-adjusted. Likeable.

  That made people underestimate him.

  The attention of the room shifted, fluttering like a startled bird and resettling on Abraham. It was impossible to gainsay, even though the commissioner clearly wanted to. The lights could have plunged us into darkness and chaotic noise could have drowned out his words, but the press still would have followed Abe to find out what his uncensored words were.

  I would have followed Abe anywhere, anyways, and I could only hope now that he would not do the same for me.

  He stepped closer to the microphone. There was no doubt in his posture, no uncertainty in what he was about to say, and no possibility that the truth of his words would be doubted by those who heard them. His rich and steady voice rolled through the room. “I stand by Tamar Rosenfeld.”

  Shock rippled through the room like an earthquake’s aftershocks—an unexpected, off-balancing rumble. Philip turned and stared at Abe. I could see it in the owner’s face. He expected Abe to bend. To stop. Because he was easygoing Abe. Good-natured Abe. He didn’t rock the boat.

  Except they had gotten it all wrong, just like I had. Abe was no reed, no obstacle that could be pushed aside or avoided. He was the river itself, flexible, moveable, and ultimately able to carve paths through stone.

  “What’s that?” Gregory Philip said.

  Abraham smiled. His smile said he was a river. That you could try to deter him or reroute him, but if it took a thousand years he would still carve the path he wanted, through stone if necessary. “She reported the truth when people preferred not to hear it; she has stood by her convictions when people slurred her. We may not be happy with the results and ramifications of the truth, but that does not mean we can pretend it doesn’t exist. She has done what we have asked for in the press; she reported on the shortcuts taken by corporations for monetary gain, which is illegal and immoral. We seem to expect, sometimes, that the press will just ignore some of the choices we make when we don’t think they’re particularly harmful, but we don’t get to pick and choose what they cover for our own benefit.

  “I stand by her, and I am proud of her, and I am disappointed in myself for not speaking up sooner.”

  He stepped off the platform and down the steps. The crowd parted before him like helpless magnets pushed away. His path was clear and direct, and only I didn’t move, as it led straight to me.

  His hand wrapped around mine as he reached my side. “Come on, let’s go.”

  And now the startled path widened enough for both of us, and we walked out of the conference room and into the city lights.

  We’d walked for at least three minutes through the falling snow before I spoke. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I did. But more importantly, I wanted to.” He stopped walking and pinned me with that intense, brilliant gaze. “I love you, Tamar. I want you to be happy, I want you with me, and I want us. Everything else can come and go. Would I be sad to see football go? Yes. But it’s not the most important thing.”

  High and mixed emotions shot through me. “I don’t deserve you.”

  He stared. “You don’t deserve me? I don’t deserve you.” He took my face in his hands. “Tamar, you are the most incredible, amazing person I have ever met. You are brilliant, you are funny, you are wonderful. It is my privilege and my pleasure to be allowed to love you.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning, but there were tears of happiness in the corners of my eyes too. “Now you’re just being silly.”

  He hauled me toward him and our lips met in a searing blaze of need and desire.

  I had no idea how we reached his apartment without being arrested for public indecency, but soon we had slammed the door behind us. I melted under his touch, utterly powerless to resist him. My coat fell away, puddling on the floor as Abe drew me closer. His heat blazed away the last of the cold until I was warm as a furnace. Our hands moved over each other with the familiarity of bone-deep knowledge and heart-whole desire. I pressed my lips against his, trying to convey everything in me, and he answered with a groan. It made my body shake, that sound of his undoing.

  Clothes fell away as we made our way to the bed. We fell into it as though onto a cloud. Every breath I took shook me.

  His hand curved around my breast as his mouth went to the other. I arched into him. We tumbled across the bed, until he was on his back, and I was sprawled above him. We were laughing and shaking. I framed his face and kissed my way from his ear to his jaw before finally reaching his mouth.

  He flipped me over and devoured me with tongue and tooth until I was lost and mindless, a limp, pliant body devoted only to his touch. He kissed me with fierce sweetness, with blazing loyalty. “I love you.”

  I moaned, and then returned his kiss with fire. “And I you.”

  His fingers, firm and steady, played down my side, and then slipped into my warmth, teasing me as I twisted beneath him, until I was hot and ready and dying for him. I nipped at his ear, and then trailed one hand between us, down the hard planes of his stomach and lower still, my palm moving with daring sureness. He rewarded me with a deep, shuddering groan, and pinned me to the bed. With one thrust, he buried himself deep inside me. A sharp noise of pleasure burst
out, and I could feel his smile against my shoulder.

  He withdrew and then slid back in, slow at first, and then increasing in speed and force. It drove me mad with desire, and I rocked against him, helpless and wanton, meeting each thrust with my own, until I was wild with want and empty of thought. We were hot and fast, light lightning, a storm after a dry spell. We were the roaring ocean, the brightness of the moon, the inexplorable tide that tied them together. I let out a cry and clung to him, and he to me, and we were lost together.

  Lost and found.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Work the next day was interesting.

  When I stepped into the office, everyone started cheering. Design, marketing, finance, people whom I didn’t even speak to on a weekly basis. Jin and Mduduzi had noisemakers. Even Tanya leaned against the wall, arms crossed but a smile on her face.

  “That was something,” Carlos said as I made my way to my seat amongst a sea of congratulatory cheers and pats on the back. “‘I stand with Tamar.’ I hope he proposed.”

  I turned red. “Now you’re being ridiculous. But yes, it was sweet.”

  Everyone groaned at that understatement, and grinning, I dropped into my chair.

  The tide of public opinion ran swift and strong. It turned against the League on the hairpin of the interview, and was reinforced as the woodwork fell away to reveal other figures. The doctor I had spoken to publicly stepped forward to confirm our findings. A respected businessman, running for city council on the promise of better health care, worked it into his speech. Rachael Hamilton, whose name I’d refused to give in my original article, now stepped up alongside her boyfriend. And after they backed me publicly, the players flocked to my side en masse.

  And the masses fell under the repeated sound bite of Abraham saying, “I stand by her and I am proud of her.”

  And it was not so long before the League called a second press conference.

  “Of course we take these allegations very seriously.” The commissioner of the NFL paused and looked around the room, so that we could all admire the gravity he’d etched into his expression. He did not seem pleased to be here, in our cold, snowy city, handling a PR mess that would lose people millions in the fallout. “Our first priority has always been the welfare of our players. We’ll not only be conducting our own investigations into the safety of the helmets and athletic gear used by our players, we’ve hired outside investigators.” He cleared his throat. “And the Leopards will no longer be going forward with the training facility as sponsored by Loft Athletics.”