One Degree of Separation Read online

  “I’m honored.” She tried to find a casual air but she didn’t feel the same inside. It just hurt too much to look at that gentle smile and those luminous dark eyes. Never for her—and now going away.

  “Amy’s got a huge stack going. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Yeah. I even took Hill for a walk so I could work up an appetite.” She followed Hemma to the kitchen, dying with every step. How many times did she have left for the simple intimacy of a meal with Hemma—and with Amy. Family, they really were the family she had adopted when she’d moved here. Losing them both at once felt ... bad.

  Oh. She stopped for a moment, nonplussed. What day is it? June ... . why was that important? Abandonment, Inner Therapist said sharply, is a familiar theme in your life, Marian. Pay attention!

  “Heya, hope you’re hungry!” Amy carefully transferred a yellow-corn pancake from the griddle to the platter on the table. “That’s the last one.” She paused halfway back to the stove. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry—”

  “So am I!” Hemma threw her arms around Marian and they were crying together. Hemma’s body was warm, soft ... flush against Marian’s.

  Her hands trembled on Hemma’s back. She wanted to touch, to feel Hemma arch slightly against her.

  Not yours, she told herself. Not yours. Never was yours. It was all in your head.

  “I’m so sorry, this isn’t your fault. I just remembered today’s the day my folks died and all of a sudden it was too much.” She pushed Hemma away gently, not daring to look into her eyes. “I know that you’re not going away forever. I will see you again. But ...”

  “A little close to the same nerve?”

  “Yeah. I think even a marginal therapist would have spotted that one.” Marian summoned a smile.

  Amy waved a hand at the steaming stack of pancakes. “Food is good for the soul, you two. And it’s better while it’s hot.” Hemma got them both a tissue. “I feel like I’m moving away from my little sister.”

  Marian was glad of the tissue to cover her face for a moment. A sister, she thought. In that moment, something turned to lead inside her. What had she been doing all these years? Wanting a woman she could not have, yes, but she’d also been yearning after a woman who did not want her. A woman who would never want her.

  Amy’s pancakes were light as air and smelled of sweet corn and honeyed butter. They tasted like ash in her mouth.

  “So I checked a couple of sites to see what kind of mortgage I could qualify for, and I just can’t put together what you need to have.

  It was a lovely dream, but I just can’t afford it.” She sipped her water and hoped Amy didn’t think her lack of appetite was the fault of the pancakes.

  “I wish we could afford to loan you the money somehow,” Hemma said. “But we’re going to need every dime.”

  “It’s okay.” It’s a decision made, Marian thought, like library school. A done deal, one to be lived with for all of the future. “I think if I went back to therapy my buying your house would easily keep me there for ten, twenty sessions.”

  “Why? The garden is half yours.” Hemma’s eyes still swam with tears.

  Because building a shrine to someone who doesn’t love you has got to be some sort of diagnosable disorder, Marian wanted to say.

  Abandonment phobia? Just plain stupid waste of time and energy syndrome?

  She adopted a gentle, reasonable tone. “Would you say that your decision to live in your friends’ house was an act of denial, Marian? I think we need to explore that—oh, I see our time is up.”

  “Therapy isn’t that bad,” Amy protested.

  Marian sighed. “I know. It’s just ... been there, done that. I don’t need the Nice Lady once a week. I can have all the conversations on my own.”

  “E-mail,” Hemma said. “And chat rooms, and aren’t there cameras for computers now? We’ll stay in touch, Marian, I promise.” A Web cam, Inner Slut mused. If they left it on, you could go on peeping.

  Vexed, Marian told Inner Slut to shut up. “I know that we will. After all, if you’re living in Hawaii it would be the best time to stay on your good side.”

  “Mercenary wretch,” Hemma said fondly.

  “Just remember,” Amy warned. “You can’t get in the door without pickled ham.”

  Swallowing hard, Marian nodded. She hoped it was a smile on her face. “I’ll remember. You can count on it.”

  Sunday noon, June 8:

  They’re my family and I’m losing them. That explains a lot of the sudden tears and feeling so out of control. That they think of me as their family explains why HER will never love me back. I should have known that part. I didn’t want to know that part.

  When something gets broken, the things that were never healed become more obvious. That’s why I’m thinking about Robyn. I swear my wrists ache. My shoulder hurts.

  Headache looming. As if there wasn’t cause enough, storm front. Work later. I hope it’s a slow day.

  Mom? Dad? I miss you. How would I explain what I’ve let happen to me? Wasting my life with unrequited love, and flirting with danger as if it was a cure? Turning my back on someone sweet and honest who at least wants me back? I wish you could meet Liddy.

  Work. I really ought to call in queer.

  “Yes, sensei.” Liddy adjusted her stance and began the form again. Sweat poured down her back as she executed the series of punches and kicks required, then rolled into a leg sweep. Her left palm made awkward contact with the mat and she went sprawling.

  Fuck and fuck it. She whacked the mat as she got up.

  Sensei Kerry asked, “What did the mat do to you?”

  “Nothing, sensei.” She resumed her stance and tried to quiet her breathing. “You could say I’ve had a problem with anger management.”

  “Had?”

  “Thank you, sensei,” she said, her tone very dry. “Your student is grateful for your insights.”

  Sensei Kerry might have laughed, but it was lost in the barked order to resume her forms practice.

  She ended up on her back instead of her face, but she still wasn’t rolling up to her feet. Again, again and again, until her legs wobbled and her butt ached from hitting the mat. It was a relief when the sensei sent her to practice simple kicks. She loved the satisfying thud of her foot into the practice bag.

  R, she intoned with the first kick. O-B-Y-N. Robyn fucking Vaughn. Someday she would stop being angry. Maybe even today.

  Maybe today she’d say good-bye forever to Robyn fucking Vaughn, and instead think about Marian. Think about being in bed with Marian. It was a much more pleasant fantasy to contemplate.

  When she finally stopped she had to mop her face with her gi.

  She opened her eyes to see the sensei holding a towel for her.

  Honored, she thanked him, but he cut her off.

  “Whatever it is that makes you angry, it clouds your judgment and leaves you vulnerable to indecision.”

  “Thank you, sensei,” she said automatically. Was she being indecisive in her life? Incoherent with anger at Robyn, she’d still accepted the job, found a place to live, driven across the country and started the project.

  But she hadn’t been decisive with Marian, now that was true. It wasn’t as if Marian made it easy, after all. Tearful one minute, the next turning on those gold-green bedroom eyes ... Marian didn’t make thinking easy. Then there was the magic she worked with her fingertips and her mouth. How did she do that?

  What was it about her?

  It had only been a few days, and there was obviously so much about Marian she didn’t know. But the way she felt when Marian was near her was hard to argue with. It was sexual, yes, but it was more than that.

  She stopped at Hy-Vee on the way home for soda and light bulbs.

  The bakery department still had those buns Marian had brought her.

  She felt stupidly nostalgic for them, though it had only been that morning. She wandered the candy aisle and found a bar of dark chocolate with r
aspberry filling. Given Marian’s penchant, it might be wise to have some in the house.

  She wished she knew where Marian lived. She’d leave the chocolate for her. She could not get through a minute without thinking about Marian and somehow she wished she could tell her so without being a fool.

  She found herself looking through the greeting cards. Hmm, there didn’t seem to be one that said, Can we fuck first and talk later?

  Nor one that read, I’m not her, and you shouldn’t treat me like I am. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good. She sighed heavily and browsed the aisle slowly.

  Marian had had pet hair on her overshirt yesterday, so she selected one with a cat and a dog sleeping peacefully side-by-side. It simply asked, Why can’t we be friends? She’d been rude this morning, throwing Marian out like that. Well, it was true that if Marian had stayed another minute, Liddy would have touched her. The sponta-neous combustion would have endangered neighboring buildings.

  Back home, she surrounded herself with her books, typing notes into organized documents about women in medicine and the basics of securing a medical degree. Statistics about the teaching hospital’s patient load and specialties offered mounted up rapidly. Every time she ran across a comment about medical ethics from a woman’s point of view she recorded that, too. She ignored the quality-control reports themselves but recorded the labels used to describe hospital “errors.” She wondered if “disadvantageous patient outcome” meant somebody had died. She’d have to find out.

  Dana Moon was paying her handsomely, and she would get Liddy’s best effort. At least she could do that right.

  Her stomach twisted hard for food, and she realized the time. It was nearly three. Time for lunch. Time to get that book from the library, too. Maybe both errands could be accomplished at the same time. The card and chocolate she tucked into her small carryall.

  She’d have to be careful about the heat though.

  Marian just thought she still loved the rotten ex, that was all.

  Maybe it still hurt, and she was mistaking that for a broken heart.

  She showered thoroughly, moisturized every inch of her body and brushed her hair into its normal, gentle wave. No ball cap or ponytail today. Her polish would survive another couple of days. Red shorts and a simple white ribbed tank top would work for the afternoon swelter. She found a pair of twisted gold earrings, plucked a disgusting stray hair from her chin and decided she’d primped enough.

  The ribbed top clung in the right places, the mirror told her. She didn’t care if the rest of the world looked or not. But she’d give a lot to see those gold-green eyes pop right out of Marian’s head.

  Even telling herself she’d only known Marian for three days didn’t calm her heartbeat. She turned the air conditioning in the Hummer up full-blast and headed in the direction of the Pedestrian Mall.

  Sunday, she thought, free parking. To her delight there were parking spaces to be had, and she nabbed one right in front of the Java House. It was a sign from above that she needed caffeine. After she locked the car she realized that Marian’s Beetle, with the “I hope to be the person my dog thinks I am” bumper sticker, was parked just three spaces up. Now that was fortuitous. Maybe.

  She placed her order and heard someone call her name.

  Carrie waved an invitation to join her and two other familiar faces. She sifted through her brain. Something about mobsters ... Jersey, she recalled. The other woman she hadn’t met.

  It felt, well, rather good to carry her drink over and settle into a comfortable chair, welcome to chat. Jersey and her girlfriend were holding hands. Liddy quickly learned that Terry, the girlfriend, was a veterinarian.

  Jersey explained, “Terry’s, like, the only dyke in I.C. I know with just one career. She doesn’t even have a serious hobby.”

  “It doesn’t leave me enough time for anything else but you, my love.” Terry ran her free hand through her gray hair. Liddy idly wished that when her hair went gray it was that thick.

  “Lovebirds.” Carrie shrugged. “Oh, my, speaking of which.” They all followed Carrie’s gaze to the counter. Ellie and Sandy were there, and they were standing very close together. Flirting, Ellie laughed and pushed her hair back. Sandy watched indulgently.

  “Oh, my is right.” Jersey craned her neck to see over Terry’s shoulder. “Reunited?”

  Terry shrugged.

  “Oh, I’d say yes.” Carrie seemed certain. “Their auras are very effusive with happy emotions right now. I’ve not seen either of them this happy in months.”

  “Me neither,” Terry said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t think Sandy would risk it again.”

  Ellie and Sandy joined them, but no one asked any pressing questions. Instead, Ellie grilled Liddy about Dana Moon again, and Carrie wanted to know if Liddy had ever had a homeopathic evaluation.

  Questions about Dana Moon were easy to answer since she knew so little.

  “We met at her agent’s office so I have no idea if she really does sleep in a coffin. And no, I’ve never had a homeopathic evaluation,” Liddy admitted.

  “You have some tension in you, but your diet appears good.” Carrie’s bright green gaze swept over Liddy’s body. Liddy wondered if this was a come-on for the holistic love couch. “While you’re here I’d be happy to give you a checkup. You would be surprised what the right mix of supplements could do for you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said noncommittally. Tea leaves and wort of newts—her parents would be delighted if she stuck with some sort of homeopathic routine. They’d tried and failed to turn her into a true believer.

  “Of course,” Carrie said understandingly. She smiled warmly, but Liddy didn’t sense a single ounce of sexual heat in it. Maybe she wasn’t a candidate for the love couch, which would suit her just fine, even though she did wonder why she didn’t qualify. How fickle was that?

  Carrie turned to Sandy. “I was going to remind you about a few things I recommended, but at the moment you look remarkably healthy. Glowing, in fact.”

  Sandy colored and stared at her feet.

  “Thank you, Dr. Carrie,” Ellie said. “What would we do without you?”

  “Do dykes on bikes?”

  “Too much leather for me.”

  “Is there such a thing as too much leather?” Liddy finished her iced coffee while Carrie and Ellie bickered.

  Not really wanting to join in, she instead glanced at Sandy, trying to decide how someone so quiet could mesh with a volatile woman like Ellie.

  She was surprised, however, to realize that Sandy and Terry were looking at each other. Sandy shrugged ever so slightly and lowered her gaze for a moment. Terry lifted an eyebrow and gave Sandy an unmistakable inquiring look. Sandy shrugged again and then darted a glance at Jersey. This time Sandy had the inquiring look and Terry looked away.

  Dyke shorthand for something, Liddy thought, but not a lingo she could translate. Carrie’s moves to leave made Liddy give up trying.

  “I’m off to drop some samples at Soap Opera.” Carrie winked at Liddy. “Are you walking that direction?”

  Liddy colored, but suddenly she didn’t mind who knew she was interested in Marian. Swear to freakin’ god, Liddy thought, I could get used to having friends. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Sandy and Ellie and Jersey and Terry all waved, and Liddy had an impression of an awkward silence falling as she and Carrie left.

  “What’s that about?” Liddy followed Carrie around the corner to the mall, dodging the ubiquitous chess game with the oversized pieces.

  “Secrets,” Carrie answered mysteriously. “Family secrets.”

  “Am I better off not knowing?”

  “Depends.” Carrie stepped around the falafel cart to avoid a small group enjoying a guitarist.

  “On what?”

  “If you’re sticking around.”

  “Okay, I can see that.” Liddy glanced at Carrie’s ruddy cheeks and glowing eyes. Marian had said she was content with her life, and L
iddy could see what she meant. “I don’t know. We’re off to a rocky start.”

  “You don’t have to do it all in a day. Some things are better in time.”

  They parted ways at the fountain. Carrie turned toward Soap Opera and Liddy toward the library.

  She gave herself a minute to calm down. She wanted to seem poised and confident when she saw Marian. She brushed imaginary lint off her shorts, then noticed—to her horror—that she’d missed a patch on one leg while shaving. Would Marian notice? Well, she couldn’t go all the way home to fix it.

  I am what I am, Marian Sue Pardoo. Liddy smoothed the tank top and made sure the scalloped edges curved evenly over her cleav-age. You ain’t seen nothing like me yet.

  10

  “That porn guy is back.” Marian regarded her immediate super-visor, Dean, the head of reference, with an aggrieved air. This was the last thing her Sunday needed.

  Dean gave her a weary look. “Are you sure?”

  “If we wait another five minutes we’ll have to dry clean the chair.” She fought down a shudder. “Mary Jane’s day off, and you’re person-in-charge.”

  Dean heaved a sigh. “Same guy from last week?”

  “Yeah, the middle-aged guy with the ‘Shit Happens’ T-shirt. He’s been in magazines for a while, but he finally got a computer. Another patron has complained.” Come on, Dean, she thought. Mary Jane would have had him out of here by now.

  Dean finally got up and she led the way, then stood back to provide visual backup. She hated this. These kinds of patrons got rude and mean, sometimes, and it wasn’t as if anyone ever considered that dealing with public masturbation was in a librarian’s job description.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Dean said firmly, and just loud enough to attract the attention of the nearest patrons. “You need to stop what you’re doing or I will call the police.”

  “Fuck off,” the man snarled.

  Dean turned toward the reference desk where the nearest phones were. “I am calling the police.”

  Cursing, the man got up. Marian noticed him pulling his hand out of his pocket. The erection was hard to miss. He stomped his way toward the exit while she quickly shut his monitor off so no other patrons would see the lurid photographs.