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“Husband?”
“No.”
“Lesbian lover?”
She shook her head.
“Now we're getting somewhere,” Jason said and drew closer. “No rules, no other man, no other woman… Is there any good reason I shouldn't do what I want to do? What I’ve been dreaming about doing for weeks?”
The little Lucy devil on her shoulder said, “Lead him on and break him apart.” The responsibly dressed Ellen angel said, “Get out of there while you're still okay, Sari.” And the girl in between them just wanted to feel Jason's mouth on hers and his hands on her body, so she didn't say or do anything, just waited in the cool dark of the night, her face turned up to him.
She had answered his question with her silence and her willingness. He smiled and his arms came around her.
His mouth tasted a little like alcohol, but it didn't change how good it felt. She closed her eyes and let him pull her close, like she had always wanted him to.
His whole body pressed into hers. Sari pressed back, shivering. He was Jason Smith and she had wanted him since she was fifteen years old. She could get lost in him-was getting lost in him-in his strong chest and broad shoulders, in the feel of his hands on her back, pi
If this had all happened in a dark, private room, that probably would have been that, and she would have fallen into bed with him and postponed all regrets and confusion to the next day's tab. But they were outside, and the sudden headlights of a car driving by made them both start and pull back and look around, their pupils dilated from more than just the dark.
“Come inside,” he said, tugging on her arm.
But she shook her head. She had been given a chance to stop and think about what she was doing. She would be an idiot not to take it. “I’d better not. It's better to take this slowly.”
“You sure about that?” Jason said, his voice not sounding like itself.
“Yeah.”
“I don't want to scare you off. But-” He took a deep breath, then said, “ ‘Slowly’ isn't another way of saying you're going to pretend you've never seen me before when I walk into the clinic tomorrow, is it?”
She shook her head again. “I’m not that good an actress.”
“Good,” he said. “So you meant all that?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, not quite able to look at him. “But I still have to go.”
His fingers stroked her arm. “Really? You have to?”
She found she was leaning in toward him again. She righted herself with an effort. “I just think it's a good idea.”
“I can think of better ideas,” he said. “I’ve been thinking of better ideas for you and me for a long time, Sari.”
“You do have stalker potential.”
“No,” he said. “All things considered, I think I’ve been pretty restrained.”
“You deserve a medal.”
“A medal isn't what I want.”
Her mouth curved in a smile and they were kissing again-she was pretty certain she started it this time, although it was hard to tell. It went on for a while.
But still somehow, eventually, she managed to stop touching him and get herself into her car. She shut the door, but then he tapped on the window, and she rolled it down. “What?” she said.
“You never told me who Charlie was.”
Euphoria fled. “My brother,” she said flatly, and, as she drove away, she wondered if Jason had any idea what a huge mistake it had been for him to bring up Charlie when, for once, she hadn't already been thinking about him.
Driving home in the dark, Sari suddenly remembered something she hadn't thought of in years-some graffiti in a girls’ bathroom stall in high school. It had stayed up there for months, maybe even years, and the image had eventually seared itself into her brain, to come back now in an abrupt flash.
First someone had written in dark purple marker, “I want to be raped by Jason Smith.”
Underneath that, someone else had written in orange, “Rape is an act of violence not sex you fucking idiot.”
And underneath that, in pink letters: “Even an act of violence by Jason Smith would be sexy.” The i in “violence” was dotted with a heart.
Even back then, Sari had known that there was no use trying to be politically correct at her school, no use trying to save the other girls from their sick wet dreams and perverted sense of romance. You can't save people who don't want to be saved.
But where did that leave her?
She didn't sleep much that night. The bed was empty and cold without him, and as she tossed and shivered, unable to sleep, tortured by confusion and lust, she wondered if he ever felt the same way, like the bed was too big for him without Sari curled up at his side.
Not Jason, of course.
Charlie.
II
Kathleen and Kevin spent Saturday night at the San Ysidro ranch in Santa Barbara and didn't want to rush back, so the girls moved their Sunday knitting circle to the evening, which meant that Sari could serve wine and guacamole instead of bagels and coffee.
As she poured herself a second glass of wine, Kathleen pointed out that it was almost Thanksgiving.
“You doing the whole family thing?” Sari asked her.
“I’m splitting it down the middle,” Kathleen said. She settled back in her seat. “Kevin invited me to come home with him-”
“Whoa,” Sari said. “That's a big deal.” She was flipping through a new knitting magazine. She had finished the baby blanket and was ready for her next project but was having trouble deciding what to do. Since Friday night, she hadn't been able to focus on much of anything.
“You don't bring a girl home for Thanksgiving di
Kathleen grimaced. “Put a little pressure on me, why don't you? Anyway, I said yes, but then Mom started leaving me messages telling me that I’m always too busy for them these days, and it's the holiday season, and don't I care about my family, and so on and so on. So I’ve got to at least swing by there at some point. Maybe even with Kevin, if he'll come.”
“Has he met the twins yet?” Sari asked.
“Once. We had di
“What'dhe think of them?”
“He said they seemed nice. And that I’m prettier than they are.
“Has he had his eyesight checked recently?” Lucy asked.
“Shut up.”
“Mom, Kathleen's telling me to shut up again,” Lucy said. “Punish her.”
“Does that make me ‘Mom’?” Sari looked up, her finger stuck in a page. “Because I don't think I’m emotionally ready to parent two grown women.”
“I knew you'd reject us one day,” Kathleen said. She dipped her finger in the wine and ran it along the edge of the wineglass. “So what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? You going home, Luce?”
Lucy shook her head. “Too far.”
“What do you mean too far?” Kathleen wiped her finger on her shirt and picked up her knitting. “You grew up right around here.”
“Yes, and my parents moved to Arizona three years ago-which I’ve told you a million times.”
“You'll probably have to tell me again. I’ve already forgotten it. It's the way you drone on about things-I’m so bored I can't stay focused.”
“Mom,” Lucy said. “Kathleen's being a jerk.”
“If you two don't stop fighting, I’m sending you both to your rooms,” Sari said. She turned another page of her magazine. “There, are you satisfied?”
“Not really,” Kathleen said. “She started it.”
“I don't care who started it. Let Mommy get shit-faced in peace.” Sari took a sip of wine. “What about James, Luce? What's he doing?”
“Going to his uncle's in Long Beach. He offered to bring me, but it doesn't sound like much fun-too many old relatives.”