Bliss (9 page)

"But you'll make it, boss lady. You better. That bitch is not
worth the breakdown."

"You're right." Sinclair sounded utterly unconvinced.

"Maybe you should use another woman to bury your
troubles in." Shelly raised her thin eyebrows and did a fair
imitation of an old man's lecherous leer.

Find someone else? This was the worst thing that had hap pened to Sinclair in a long time. She couldn't compare this to
her grandmother's death five years ago. That was the only
thing that had shaken her harder, made her question living.
Today made her wonder why, after all these years of successfully protecting her feelings, had Regina slipped inside her so
easily? Because she was a woman, stupid. Your first. It had
never been like this with men. Never.

"You definitely need a break," Shelly said. She dangled her
feet over the edge of Sinclair's desk.

"This little pep talk and drinking session are doing wonders for me, thanks." There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in
Sinclair's voice.

"But what about tomorrow or the next day? You can't
drink your unhappiness away. Don't become another dyke
statistic. That's so not sexy."

The woman was right again. This was going to have to be
her last glass. It wouldn't be smart to get on the subway
stumbling down drunk, no matter how appealing the relief
would be. At least she would be able to fall asleep quickly
tonight with no more than an hour or two of tossing and
turning.

"Tell me about yourself, Shelly. Tell me anything that will
make this shit disappear for a little while."

"What do you want to know?" Shelly's voice was soft.

"Anything. Tell me anything."

I'm screwed, Sinclair thought with a bitter smile as she sat
in a taxi crawling toward home in rush-hour traffic. But
worse than that, Regina had changed her. Now she knew
what fulfilling sex was like. She knew what happened when
her body was satisfied and her mind at rest, not wondering if
she was normal for not wanting to be close to the person
who she was supposed to be with. Sinclair finally understood
that she loved women-even this woman-more than she'd
ever loved any of her boyfriends. And Regina made her pay
for that knowledge.

If she had told her in the beginning that all it was and
could ever be between them was a fling, a monthlong diversion, then there would have been less letting go on Sinclair's
part, less trust. She felt duped. After the night that Regina
took her to the Burning Rose, after she'd apologized and
touched Sinclair like she meant something, Sinclair had started
to believe that they were going somewhere together. That
was the worst betrayal, making her believe that she had a
chance to be with her. Maybe Sinclair was being punished for
leading Yuen on. Yuen. She hadn't thought of him in a long
time. He swore that she would come back to him, back to
men. But Sinclair would rather hunt down Regina and beg
on bloodied hands and knees to be taken back.

When she walked into her apartment, she picked up the
phone and dialed Yuen's number.

"Sinclair." There was no smugness when he answered the
phone, just the familiar upward lilt to his voice when she surprised him with a call or visit. Sinclair was grateful for that.

"How have you been?"

"Good." He cleared his throat. "How about you?"

"I've been great up until recently."

"Which is why you called, right?"

Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile. He always knew
how to cut to the heart of things. She took a breath. "I called
to apologize. I didn't do well by you a month ago. You didn't
deserve to be treated like that."

"Is that all?" He hesitated. "Are you all right?"

She imagined him leaning against his kitchen counter like
she'd seen him do a hundred times, his bare ankles crossed as
he watched the river ripple and flash beyond the window.

"Yes. I'm fine. I just wanted to call now that my head isn't
so far up her ass anymore."

"What did she do to you, besides the usual, that is?"

Very funny. "Nothing that I shouldn't have seen coming."
As Sinclair spoke she realized that she was reaching out to
him in friendship, reaching out for the type of relationship that she'd always imagined with him, one not based on sex
but on all the things they had in common. But as she silently
asked for that very thing, she knew that she could never have
it. Not with him.

"She left you for a man?" Yuen asked.

"No. She just left."

There was a hard, pointed silence, an "I told you so" without words.

"Anyway, that was the main reason that I called, so I'm
going to go now."

"You can come over if you want. I'm not doing anything
tonight."

"That's all right, I have some work that I need to catch up
on. I'll talk to you later."

"Sure. Just call me if you need anything."

Sinclair made some more goodbye noises before hanging
up the phone. Well, that was a disappointment. Not that she
knew exactly why she had called him in the first place.
Absolution from her stupidity? She made a rude noise.

With nothing better to do she began to look through the
pile of mail she'd just picked up from the mailbox. Under the
usual pile of junk mail and bills, she unearthed a square envelope with a Jamaica return address. She smiled. It was
from her father. Was it her birthday already? She checked the
date on her watch. April 8. No, he was just early this year. By
three weeks. Sinclair tossed the bills and junk mail in their
basket in the kitchen to be sorted out later and sat down to
read her birthday card.

Happy 33rd, it said. Come down and celebrate your birthday with us. There's always a place for you here. She put
away the letter he'd enclosed in the card to read later and
leafed through the photographs. Her father looked thin but
happy with his very young wife and their four-year-old boy,
Xavier.

They posed on an oversized beach blanket. Around them,
coconut trees pregnant with fruit waved in the island breeze. Xavier stared into the camera with wide, gorgeous eyes. His
smile was blinding.

Sinclair looked out at the gray fog beyond her window.
Although they hadn't seen each other for some twenty years,
her father had always been there for her, sending birthday
cards, short letters, the occasional package with current
photographs of him and his new family. In turn, Sinclair remembered his birthday and wedding anniversary, sending appropriate cards, money, and gifts when her electronic calendar
reminded her to. She'd never sent any pictures of her own.

Every birthday he invited her down to Jamaica to stay
with him and his family. Every year she refused. Work was
always her handy excuse. Sinclair looked around her. The
apartment, a product of her tireless work, was beautiful but
cold, especially without her grandmother to share it with.
Once a week a cleaning woman came by and did something
to it. There was never enough of a life being lived in the
apartment to get it dirty. With Regina's betrayal so fresh, she
couldn't help but feel that there was nothing here for her. Not
really. If now wasn't the perfect time to escape....

At the bottom of the card, as always, was her father's
phone number. Before she could change her mind, she called
it. The phone rang four times before the machine picked up.
A child's voice told any brave caller to leave a message.

"Hi, Papa and Nikki. This is Sinclair. Thank you both for
the card. It's beautiful. I'm thinking of taking you up on that
offer to come down and visit." Her voice faltered. "Give me
a call at home or at work when you get this message."

She left her numbers and wished them both a polite good
evening. For the rest of the night she worried that all the in
vitations-all twenty years of them-had been for politeness'
sake alone and no one would return her call. She fell asleep
earlier than usual thinking about coconut trees and smiling
children.

The next day Shelly was in the office before her. Sinclair
stopped at her secretary's desk.

"You're in early."

"I didn't want to give you the chance to avoid me again."
She grinned, looking not at all like someone who'd knocked
back half a bottle of whiskey the night before.

Today she was in head-to-toe pink, like an extra from that
Audrey Hepburn movie, Funny Face. Knee-hugging pink skirt,
matching jacket, pale pink blouse and high-heeled pink shoes.
A pale pink pillbox hat sat on top of her French-twisted hair.

"You're not funny," Sinclair muttered to her earlier comment. "But you do look lovely today."

"Thank you, boss lady," she said to Sinclair's retreating
back.

Sinclair was just putting her briefcase and purse away
when Shelly buzzed her.

"Your father is calling for you," Shelly said.

"Thanks." Sinclair took a deep breath. "Hello?"

"Sinclair!" His voice came hearty and loud over the phone
line. "What a surprise to get your call last night."

"I hope it wasn't an unpleasant surprise."

"No, no. Don't be crazy." He laughed. "So, after all these
years you're coming to visit your old man?"

"If I'm still invited, yes."

"If you're still invited ... daughter, please. When are you
coming?"

"When's best for you?"

"Any time you want to come is fine. I'm not going anywhere off this island anytime soon."

"How about next month? How long can you stand to
have me?"

"Next month is fine. If the burden of your company gets
too much I can always ship you off to a family friend." He
laughed long and hard at his own joke.

"How about four weeks?"

"That's fine. Just try to get a flight coming in after three in
the afternoon and let me know when to come get you from
the airport."

"All right. Um ..." Sinclair glanced at her desk calendar.
"Let's say four weeks starting the eighteenth of next month."
She scribbled down a note to herself to buy the plane tickets.
"I'll call you when I know exactly when my plane lands."

"Sounds good. Nikki and Xavier are glad they will finally
get the chance to meet you. Especially since you didn't send
any pictures." He tut-tutted, then laughed again. "Seeing you
in person will be better than a hundred photographs."

"Don't talk too soon. You may not like what you see." She
wasn't entirely joking.

"There you go talking crazy again." He didn't laugh this
time. "I know that you're at work and everything so I won't
take up too much more of your time."

"That's all right."

"Sure it is. Just call me later on."

"I will. Talk to you soon." She disconnected the line, then
rang Shelly.

"Shelly, could you put in four weeks of vacation down on
the company calendar for me, please? Beginning May eighteenth."

"A month?"

"Yes." A trace of impatience touched her voice.

"Are the big bosses going to allow that? You're not exactly
dispensable here, you know."

"Use your sweet talk to make it happen, Shell." Sinclair's
mouth twitched with amusement. "Bryony and Steven can
handle my workload until I get back. And don't worry, I'll
leave plenty of work for you to do while I'm gone."

In Sinclair's last day of work before her vacation, she invited Shelly to share a drink with her. The dark-haired
woman seemed pleasantly surprised and said so when she
walked into the office.

"Don't worry, I'm not turning senile or anything. I just
wanted to thank you for going above and beyond when I was
having a rough time."

"It was for my own sanity as well as yours, trust me."
Shelly threw her an arch look. "But you're welcome. I'm sure
you would have kicked my ass, too, if I'd walked in here for
days looking like someone had just stolen my lunch money."

Sinclair poured her a glass of whiskey and winced at the
reminder of Regina. Shelly touched her hand gently in apology before taking her drink to the leather-covered window
seat. She sighed as she looked down at the street below. "I'm
sure going to miss your sour puss every morning."