Kate Christie (19 page)

Holly told me privately, trying loyally not to laugh.

The day of the Super Bowl, I swung by Jess’s early to see if I could help. She had left her downstairs door unlocked, so I jogged up the stairs and knocked on the third-floor door. No answer. I could hear Melissa Etheridge echoing through the apartment. I tried the door and found it, too, unlocked. Usually she was so careful.

I pushed the door open and called, “Jess!”

No answer. I could hear her singing along to the music, 13 Kate Christie

or shouting, anyway. I tracked her voice to the kitchen, where I found her cleaning the sink, yellow gloves pulled up to her elbows, stereo blasting on the kitchen table.

“Jess,” I tried again, reaching out to turn the music down.

She spun around suddenly, eyes wide, rubber gloves dripping soap on the floor. “Cam! What the fuck?”

“Sorry.” I froze where I was. “I just came by to see if I could help.”

She stared at me, brow furrowed. “Did I leave my door unlocked?”

“Yeah. I knocked, but I don’t think you could hear anything over Melissa.”

She turned back to the sink. “Sidney and Claire are away for the weekend, so I turned it up.”

“Gotcha.”

I stood where I was a moment longer, watching her lean both hands against the sink edge, her chin lowered. I could almost sense her heart pounding from across the room. I wanted to go to her, rub her shoulders, smooth the lines from her forehead. But touching her, I was pretty sure, would only exacerbate matters.

I forced my voice to sound cheerful. “So. Can I help?”

“You could vacuum if you wanted,” she said, her back to me, voice as tight as her shoulders.

It was like I wasn’t even there—or, more accurately, like she was no longer there. She’d done this before, withdrawn into some private place where no one else could follow. From experience, I knew if I left her alone she’d reemerge at some point. I was only hoping it’d be before our friends invaded her personal space.

I vacuumed while she finished up the kitchen and tackled the seemingly spotless bathroom. Everything looked pristine to me, as usual. Jess had told me that she enjoyed cleaning, which I had no trouble believing—the apartment nearly always looked freshly scrubbed, even when she was in season.

By the time I put the vacuum away, Jess was making eye contact again and even smiling a little at my lame jokes. We made a quick trip to the convenience store to stock up on chips, dip, cheese, crackers and beverages. We forked over more money Beautiful Game 13

than either of us could really afford, but after all, this was the first—and only, she insisted—party Jess had ever hosted at her apartment.

On our way back in, we stopped downstairs to let Duncan, Sidney and Claire’s chocolate Lab, pee in the backyard. Then we headed back upstairs, Duncan trailing happily after us.

Mel, Jeni and Anna arrived first in Mel’s father’s old Mercedes, followed by Jess’s tennis pals Taylor and Julie in a brand-new BMW. Laura and Holly showed up last.

“Where do you want these?” Holly asked as she came through the door. She and Laura were each carrying two large pizza boxes.

“Over here.” I motioned them to the kitchen table. “Good call, you guys.”

“It isn’t the Super Bowl without pizza,” Laura declared.

“You got some without meat, didn’t you?” I asked. I’d recently decided to embrace vegetarianism.

“Of course,” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

Everyone grabbed a piece of pizza and settled into the living room for the Super Bowl, keeping an eye on the pregame show to see which new commercials would make television history this Super Bowl Sunday. Duncan sat on the floor glancing eagerly from one to the other of us, waiting for dropped chips or pizza crust, his tail thumping the furniture whenever anyone laughed.

As the game got going, beverages flowed freely, food was munched continuously, and conversation—about sports, campus politics, food, families—frequently drowned out the sounds from the TV as Jess’s friends and mine mingled easily. I liked seeing the apartment full of people chatting amiably. I thought she might too. The game wasn’t very close—Buffalo managed to lose their second Super Bowl in a row in embarrassing fashion—

but the creative advertisements provoked the usual giggles and groans. All in all, a fun time appeared to be had by everyone.

Shortly after the game ended, Taylor and Julie announced that they had to get some studying done. Mel, Jeni and Anna left with them. Jess and I had been a little surprised that the two tennis players, both of whom had boyfriends, had bonded so 140 Kate Christie

easily with Mel and Jeni, officially a couple now, and Anna the bold baby dyke.

“Guess they’re straight but not narrow,” Jess said to me in the kitchen with a slight smile, reminding me of the previous fall when I’d asked her what her deal was.

Holly and Laura stayed to help pick up. There had only been one accident, a beer knocked over on the rug under the coffee table. We’d cleaned it up immediately. Fortunately, the threads of the Persian rug were dark maroon and navy blue, so the stain didn’t show. The rug was old anyway, Jess had said, mopping up the amber liquid with a dish towel.

Holly and I had just finished the dishes when Jess’s phone rang. She grabbed it and walked into the living room.

“You sticking around?” Holly asked me, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Laura caught the look and glanced from me to Jess, who was frowning into the phone on the other side of the room. “Wait.

You don’t mean.. ”

I patted Laura’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s just messing with you.”

“That was a perfectly innocent question,” Holly protested.

“Tell Jess thanks for the party,” Laura said, dragging Holly toward the hall. “Later, Cam.”

“Later.”

I locked the door behind them and wandered back down the hall. Jess was still talking on the portable phone, looking out the window in the living room, one hand on her hip. Trying not to eavesdrop, I started to put the dishes away, but the apartment wasn’t exactly huge.

“I know,” she was saying. “I know you mean well, Nana, but you and Aunt Sara don’t know the whole story.” She was quiet for a long time, listening to the voice at the other end. “Good, I’m glad. But it doesn’t change anything… No, it’s not like that.

You should ask her… I appreciate that, but it’s something she and I have to figure out, okay? Okay, Nana? I have to go. There are people here… I know. I love you too. Give Sara and the boys my love. I’ll come see you soon. Bye.” She turned off the phone and stayed where she was, still staring out the front window.

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I lifted a glass from the white plastic dish drainer on the counter, then paused. Was that a sniffle I’d heard coming from the living room? Duncan was leaning against Jess’s leg, and as I hesitated, he gave a low whine.

“Jess?” I asked.

She swiped at her face but didn’t turn around. “Did Holly and Laura leave?”

“Yeah. They said thanks for the party.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel. “Are you okay?”

Abruptly she pulled the wooden blinds down, shutting out the night. She turned and I could see faint traces of the tears she’d wiped from her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said, not quite looking at me as she crossed the apartment. “I have to take Duncan for a walk. You coming?”

“Um, okay,” I said, uncertain if I’d actually been invited along or not. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Her voice was firm, her eyes dark even in the warm, bright kitchen. Brushing past me, she headed down the hall and grabbed her SDU Tennis jacket from the closet, Duncan’s leash and her house key from the hook beside the door. I followed, tugging my navy blue fleece over my head.

Jess ran down the steep stairs at full speed. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the dog. We both hurried after her.

She led the way quickly through the residential neighborhood, her face in shadows most of the time. Duncan and I trailed her.

He stopped to pee frequently. Marking his territory, Jess had told me the first time we’d borrowed Duncan for an after-dinner walk the previous fall. That was what male dogs did. Typical, I had said, and we’d both laughed.

But she wasn’t laughing now. I could feel her tension, see it in her clenched jaw, the set of her shoulders. I walked quietly, letting her work it out on her own. I knew her well enough to understand that Jess didn’t like to talk through her feelings. She preferred to pin them down and crush them before they could get loose. I didn’t know why she maintained such rigid control over her emotions. I wondered if anyone else did. Maybe her 142 Kate Christie

mother. Probably not her grandmother, judging from what I’d heard of their phone conversation.

We walked a few blocks to a small overgrown lot where Jess let Duncan off-leash. Then we stood silent, watching as he bounded happily into the bushes, a dark blot moving among darker shadows. I could hear him snuffling and clambering about through the brush. Soon he careened out again, tongue lolling in a pant of satisfaction, and stumbled to a halt at our feet. Jess pulled a dog biscuit from her jacket pocket and tossed it to him.

“Good boy,” she said, her voice low. She hooked the leash to his collar and we turned back toward the house.

The silence was beginning to unnerve me. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Look, Jess, what’s up?” I asked, taking the plunge I usually avoided. “You’re obviously upset about something. Why don’t you talk about it? Might make you feel better.”

She laughed, only it came out short, bitter. “You’re hardly the queen of communication, Cam.”

Frowning, I caught a glimpse of her face as we passed under a streetlamp. There was that haunted look I remembered seeing the first night I’d been to her apartment.

“I never said I was,” I pointed out. “But we’re not talking about me. What’s up?”

She was quiet for a long time, so long that I thought she didn’t intend to answer. We passed spacious houses with well-tended lawns and neat fences that Duncan stopped to pee on. We paced the narrow sidewalk lit by streetlamps and porch lights, side by side but not touching. We were on the walkway to Sidney and Claire’s front door before she stopped abruptly, surprising both me and Duncan.

“Look,” she said in the same low voice. With her face in shadows, I couldn’t make out her features. “There are some things you just can’t talk about. Some things that if you even think about them, they suck you in and it’s like a whirlpool, and you might never get free. Do you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, a little scared of the intensity in her voice. Honestly, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

She made a fist with one hand. “Talking doesn’t fix anything.

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It doesn’t help. Nothing does, except maybe time. And even then, even when you’re sure you’ve got everything under control, it comes back. It always comes back, and then you just try to get through it. That’s all. You just get through it because really, it’s not like there’s any other choice.” She shook her head, took a few paces away from me, unfurled her fist and flexed her fingers.

“Come on. It’s getting late.”

I waited outside while she let herself into Sidney and Claire’s part of the house to turn off lights and close curtains. Then we returned upstairs in silence, Duncan trailing at our heels. She slipped her keys onto the hook near the door and hung her jacket back in the closet. When she headed into the kitchen, Duncan and I both followed. I wasn’t sure what came next.

“I’m making tea,” she said, filling the kettle. “Want some?”

I hesitated. I should really head home and try to get a little reading done before I hit the sack, but I didn’t want to leave yet, not like this. I wouldn’t be able to sleep thinking about her all alone in this big house.

“Decaf?”

“Raspberry patch.”

“Okay.”

I pulled off my fleece and hung it over a chair. Duncan lay down on the cool tile floor with a deep dog sigh. I watched as Jess moved deliberately about the kitchen, pulling two cups with mismatched saucers from the cupboard, two teabags from a metal tea box, two spoons from the squeaky old silverware drawer. When the kettle whistled, she poured boiling water into the cups and carried them over to the table. She set a mug in front of me.

“Did this come with the place, too?” I asked, gesturing at the mug. A picture of Garfield in tennis gear adorned one side.

She almost smiled. “No, it was willed to me by a senior on the team last year. Beth Jackson. Do you remember her?”

An image of a petite blonde woman with the inevitable tennis tan flashed into my mind. “Vaguely.”

“She was pretty cool. She kind of looked out for me when I was a freshman.” Jess blew on her tea, steam rising about her face.

144 Kate Christie

“Are Sidney and Claire coming home tomorrow?”

She nodded, cupping her hands about her mug, decorated with a picture of the San Diego bay at sunset.

I tried again. “I can’t believe football season is over.”

“I know.”

“Only a month until March Madness.”

“Yep.”

Obviously, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. I set my teabag on my saucer and picked up my cup, blowing on the surface. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to hug her. Let’s face it, I thought, staring into the crimson tea, I wanted to kiss her. I sighed noisily.

Jess glanced up. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said, letting some of my frustration into my voice. “You shut everyone out. It’s hard sometimes, you know?”

She toyed with the wet teabag on her saucer. “I’m fine.

Honestly.”

“Great. Awesome.”

It wasn’t, though. I wanted her to need me. I even thought I might need her to need me.

We drank our tea in silence, listening to the CD that was playing in the living room—Peter Gabriel. When “In Your Eyes” came on, I gazed into my tea. All Jess would have to do was look at me and she would know I cared about her more than any mere friend had a right to.