Never Say Never (19 page)

We stumbled out of the bar just after one A.M., a frigid blast of cold air greeting us. Sara slipped an arm through mine and snuggled close as we crossed a busy intersection to get to Susan’s car. Susan and Pam walked a few steps ahead of us, holding hands and singing as we reached the car.

All at once, from out of nowhere, a dark sports car careened around the corner, nearly running us over as a carload of high school boys hung out the windows, screaming and hurling obscenities as they forced us to dive for the curb.

“Lezzies!”

“Fuckin’ dykes!”

Tires screeching, they roared with cruel laughter as the car sped away.

“Bastards!” I heard Susan say.

Cheeks hot with humiliation, my eyes sought Sara’s. She was sitting on the sidewalk, her legs pulled up, her arms across her knees. Her head was bent, resting on her forearms. I reached down and touched an arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, squatting in front of her.

She mumbled something unintelligible, and I covered her hands with my own. “What?” I asked softly.

“I said, I’m not a fucking dyke,” she said evenly, her voice brittle.

My heart sank into my stomach.

She lifted her head and I could see tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “I don’t want to be a
fucking dyke,
” she told me, her voice oddly cold and hollow.

We stared at each other as I remained frozen. Susan crouched down behind Sara, deftly placing a hand on either shoulder. My eyes flickered up to Susan’s, and I knew instantly that she had heard Sara’s declaration.

“They’re assholes,” Susan muttered, her fingers beginning to rub Sara’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sara.” Her voice was softly caressing. “I know it’s been a tough weekend for you. But you can’t let them get to you. That’s what they want.” She slipped her arms about Sara’s neck from behind and gave her a quick hug.

“And there’s nothing wrong with what you and Leslie have.” I watched as Sara squeezed her eyelids against her tears and fell into the hug. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked of Susan.

“Because I like you, and Leslie loves you. That’s enough for me.” Her words were spoken matter-of-factly.

I cringed as Susan gave voice to the words I’d never said. Sara looked at me with dark, but clear eyes.

“I think you tell her more than you’re telling me,” she said quietly.

I stammered, not knowing what to say. Susan rescued me, standing up and reaching down to pull Sara to her feet. “She doesn’t have to say anything. I know her like a book.” She gave Sara a quick hug. “Come on. Let’s get you home to a warm fire and a soft bed. Some quiet music. Maybe coffee. . .” Remarkably, Sara allowed Susan to tuck her carefully into the car, Pam and I falling in behind them.

* * *

Sara became withdrawn after that night. I could see and feel that she was trying hard not to show it. But her smile was tired, her eyes less bright, and her laughter forced. We stopped making love. Each night she curled into me like a frightened child. I held her close, trying to comfort and reassure her.

It was difficult for her to talk to me, but she tried, in little dribs and drabs. But her words were sketchy as she grew more and more lifeless.

Little more than a week after our return to Atlanta, she came to my office late in the afternoon. I looked up to find her in front of my desk, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Her tongue did the dip and tuck thing several times in the span of a few moments. Warning bells went off in my head.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, heart in my throat.

“We have to talk,” she whispered. “Can you get away?” I checked my watch. Nearly four o’clock. “Of course.” I shrugged into a light overcoat and followed her outside. Shoulder to shoulder, we began the familiar walk back to the hotel. A sense of dread settled over me.

“What’s going on?” I prompted her.

She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “I just finished talking with Dennis in Boston. Apparently we’ve picked up a new client, and he’d like me to fly out there and help them develop the specs.”

My pace slowed as the words reached me. I tried desperately to remain calm. “Where’s the company?” I asked, staring straight ahead, unable to look at her.

“Wisconsin.”

Heart sinking, I clenched my jaw, trying to control my reaction.

“How soon?” My voice sounded strangled. “For how long?”

“Tomorrow. For as long as it takes.”
Boom.
I stopped dead in my tracks, swinging around to face her.

“He can’t do that.” Desperately, my mind searched frantically for a way out. “We’ve got to do something. Maybe I can go with you.” I searched her face, noting how pinched it looked. Her eyes reflected sadness.

“I can’t believe this,” I was saying. “Dennis wouldn’t do this. I can’t believe he didn’t call me first to run it by me.” I shook my head, then stopped, realization dawning.

“I called Dennis, Leslie. I told him things were just about wrapped up here and that there was no reason for both of us to stay. I asked him if there was another project he could switch me to.”My knees grew weak, and I felt like the wind had been knocked from my lungs. Sara reached out a hand to steady me. “I’m really sorry, Leslie. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have told me.” I felt hurt, angry, and betrayed. “You could have told me that you wanted out.”

“I don’t want out. I want a chance to think. On my own. Without my family and without the safety of your arms every night. It’s too easy to turn to you and expect you to make it all okay. You’re too kind. Too understanding. I can see how much I’m hurting you, and I know you would let me do it indefinitely. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“So you’re going to run away.” My tone was caustic.

She blinked hard at my words. “I don’t think that’s what I’m doing,” she said quietly. “I’m fucked up, Leslie. I can’t be a lesbian for you. If that’s what I am, then it’s something I have to be even when I’m not with you. I have to find that out.” I couldn’t help the tears that began to well up and slip down my cheeks. Angrily, I bit my lip and looked away. “I know,” I told her. “It’s just so soon.” My voice was cracking. “It just doesn’t seem fair, you know?” I tried to smile at her through my tears but failed miserably. “I never got to tell you how I feel about you.”

“And why not, Leslie?” she asked softly, knowing the answer.

“Too scared that I’d push you away,” I admitted.

She nodded. “See? And I never talked about my feelings because I’ve been terrified by them. This isn’t good for either one of us.”

I blinked hard and wiped my eyes before studying her tired face. “I know that you’re right. I just thought we’d have more time.” I rocked back on my heels, feeling inadequate, feeling like a fool.
You knew better, kiddo
, I chided myself. “Will you call?” She frowned as she watched me. “I already know that I will want to call you morning, noon, and night. But I can’t. Not for a while. Not until I figure this thing out.” It was over. Pure and simple.
How had I ever let myself get
involved with her?
It was over.

We barely spoke the rest of the evening. I watched as one by one, all of her belongings were packed into one bag or another. Part of me wanted to run away. But instead I watched masochistically, unwilling to let go of her even a moment before I had to.

My throat burned from unshed tears as we held each other that night. But in the morning, when I woke to find the pillow beside me empty, I wept. A single sheet of hotel stationery greeted me, a brief message scrawled:
I do love you, Leslie. Sara.

“Then why in the hell didn’t you tell me?” I screamed at the empty room, the words wrenched from deep inside me. Curling up on that bed and holding her pillow in my arms, I cried as I had never cried before. I bawled and sobbed until I made myself sick to my stomach.

I made two phone calls. The first to Billy’s phone mail, saying I had the flu and wouldn’t be in for a few days. The second was to Susan. She was groggy with sleep as I squeaked out the two words. “She’s gone.”

Susan took charge. I reached out for my lifeline, and she was there. Before the afternoon was over, my rock had arrived at the door. Her arms went around me and my tears began to pour all over again.

I’m not quite certain how I got through the next few months.

I spent the first few days locked in my hotel room with Susan, wallowing in self-pity, berating myself for having ever gotten involved with Sara. The little voice in my mind mocked me, saying
I told you
so over and over until I felt the chip settling on my shoulder and all the old defense mechanisms falling firmly into place. Susan recognized the signs, as she reluctantly returned to Boston.

The completion of the Atlanta project became my complete focus. I decided that I wanted to be back in Boston by Christmas, and I did everything necessary to meet the deadline.

During quieter, weaker moments, I allowed myself to believe that it wasn’t really over with Sara. That she’d be back any day. I fantasized that she would show up on my doorstep on Christmas Eve, arms laden with gifts. I would laugh and tell her that she was the only gift I wanted.

But Christmas Eve came and went, as did Christmas day, and the day after that, without so much as a word from Sara.

I left Atlanta behind and returned to the Boston office after the holidays, anything but fresh and rested. Uncertain of my future, either personally or professionally, I wasn’t prepared for the gossip that eagerly awaited me. I’d barely been settled for an hour when Amy, our departmental secretary, asked if I’d heard about Sara. The ringing in my ears began at the mention of her name. Through a fog, I heard that Kenny was in Wisconsin with her, and he reported that Sara was in bed, literally, with the owner of the client company. “And,” she added in a hush as I struggled for air, “Kenny says he’s a black man. Can you believe it?”

“Kenny is a racist pig,” I replied evenly, dismissing her from my office.
Never get involved with a straight woman.
At least this bit of news was the push I needed, the permission that I needed to let go and move on.

As the end of January neared, I was thinking clearly and beginning to take charge of my life again. Susan and I scoured through the want ads every Sunday morning. We would curl up in front of the fireplace, reading through the advertisements, plotting and planning my new career.

It didn’t take long to realize that finding a new job and, hopefully, a new career might take longer than I would like. I decided that it was time to confront Dennis with my frustration and let him know that I needed a new challenge. With this thought in mind, I wandered up the hallway to his office on Monday morning, stopping at Amy’s desk just outside his door as she beckoned to me.

“Dennis said he wants to see you right away.” Her eyes were wide with excitement as angry voices began to rise on the other side of the doorway.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this!” Kenny’s voice boomed from inside the office, causing my skin to crawl.

“What’s going on?” I turned back to Amy.

“Dennis just canned him. He made some kind of crack to Sara about her sleeping with that black guy, and she sent him packing.” Her eyes grew wider with barely contained enthusiasm. “Can you believe it?”

Before I could reply, Kenny stormed from the office, eyes wild as he brushed past me and headed down the hall. Amy was instantly on her feet and chasing after him. I watched them and then took a deep breath.
Who needs this shit?

I didn’t want to go in that office. I didn’t want to hear any more about Sara and the black man.
God. Didn’t this guy have a
name?
I walked across the tiled floor and peered inside to see Dennis hunkered down in his chair, leaning heavily across his desk. He seemed to be talking to himself, ranting and raving as I stepped inside to let him know I was there.

“You can’t do that,” he was saying. “I can’t let you. You’re too important to this company and to this project.” I stepped cautiously in front of him, watching as his eyes lifted to mine and a look of relief swept over him. “Leslie!” he called my name loudly, motioning me into the chair in front of the desk. He pointed to the speakerphone on his desk, and I realized he was talking to someone on the other end. “Talk to her, Leslie. She’s threatening to quit. Tell her she can’t do this to us.” I stared at him dumbly, slow on the uptake. “Who?”

“Sara.” A cold sweat broke out on my brow as he turned back to the speaker. “Sara, Leslie’s here with me.” Silence.

“Leslie?” Her voice sounded tired. My mind began to spin.

“Hi, Sara.” I said the words flatly, unemotionally. My heart was pounding.

Again silence stretched. Dennis said, “She wants to quit, Leslie. Talk to her.” He stared at me hard, causing me to shrink back into the chair. My tongue was tied as I stared back. Again the silence stretched too long.

“I’ve had enough, Dennis.” Sara’s voice came over the speaker again, filling the room.

“Look. I fired his ass. You don’t have to deal with Kenny any more.” He looked up at me, his eyes glaring into mine. “Tell her, Leslie.”

I stared at him blankly. “I can’t do that, Dennis.” The look that he threw me didn’t change my mind. “Sara knows what she needs to do. I’m not going to try convincing her otherwise.” My voice was carefully quiet and controlled.

Dennis responded by reaching out and pressing a finger to the mute button on the phone. “Get out,” he hissed. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’m sorry, Dennis. She’s burned out,” I shrugged.
And so am I.

He lifted his finger, looking tired as he folded his hands together. Resignation showed on his face. “Go keep an eye on Kenny,” he told me. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid on his way out.”

I nodded, then stood up and left the room.

“‘Bye, Les.” Sara’s words reached my ears just as I passed through the door to the hallway. I didn’t turn back to reply.

When I arrived home that evening, Susan was lounging in the living room, an anxious frown on her face. The theme to the local evening news was playing on the television. I tossed my briefcase to the floor before falling in a heap beside her. “I don’t think I can take it anymore,” I said as I closed my eyes and leaned my head on her shoulder.